


Event Horizon

by MinervaNorth



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: F/M, Graphic Violence, Rogue One prequel, Rough Sex, i'm not even sorry, strangulations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 02:10:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21384379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinervaNorth/pseuds/MinervaNorth
Summary: Captain Cassian Andor had one goal: eliminate the Empire. He fought like hell until his mission became rescuing one of their last slicers, going by the callsign A-5HA. Their partnership, although volatile, would eventually result in discovering the most important information of all: the location of the plans of the Empire’s Death Star. They only had to survive long enough to complete their mission.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**_Coruscant_****_ // _****Level 2685**** // **-101 

This mission wasn’t going according to plan. He tried to weave in between the individuals fighting for his attention near the club, but they just kept getting in his way. It would be all too easy to just… shoot, but that meant too many questions and not enough space between him and the places he needed to go. 

Better to keep a low profile, slipping between a Twi’lek buying death sticks from a sickly Rodian and a human who had definitely seen her better days, several hundreds of levels ago. This is the life now, pretending like they couldn’t see the Imperial hand grasping tightly to the entire galaxy. 

He just hoped they would let some grains of sand slip from their fingers. Enough grains of sand could create a sandstorm. 

He smiled. He had to. Even in the midst of his mission, he could always wax philosophical. 

But for now, he had to focus on getting out unseen. He was sure the Imperial Stormtrooper would check his papers if he had the chance, but the man would never get the chance. He would be sure of it. 

Shifting into an alleyway, he took the shortcut over to his ship. Well, it was his ship now, or it soon would be; the lights and sounds around it indicated it would be taking off shortly. It idled just off the ground, and he barely had to look around to see its owner: a Bothan, his face heavily scarred, verbally fought with a nearby trio of Stormtroopers. 

He ducked around the machine, moving quickly; with each of his footfalls, he tried to make himself smaller and more agile. This mission couldn’t deal with more dead behind him. He really needed to focus on not leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. It was bad form. 

But when they took the form of someone loyal to the Empire, something else came over him, and he let the rage take over. 

Attempts to let morality take the reins always failed. 

He had jumped onto the entry ramp of the transport ship before they spotted him, and he had taken up the ramp before he heard them call out. 

And he was in the air, ascending, before he could be stopped. 

And although the mission itself had taken some ugly turns, he decided, upon his ascent through the levels, it would be regarded as a success. A messy success, but it was better than a failure. 

At least, that’s what he anticipated saying in his report. 

* * *

**_Yavin_****_ IV_****_ // _****Base One**** // **\- 97 

He expected the berating to end relatively soon. General Draven, without the reins Mon Mothma usually put on him, launched into a tirade about his methods on this particular mission. It was all he could do to say ‘yes, sir’, ‘no, sir’ when he was prompted. 

Eventually the man tired himself out. With the furrowed brow, the vitriolic statements, he knew something else bothered the General. 

“Sir, permission to speak freely.” 

“What is it, Captain Andor?” 

“It wasn’t my mission that made you so angry, is it?” 

“No, it is not,” he said, straightening, pacing. “We lost another intelligence officer. She got captured by Imperials. We just received word this morning.” 

“Is there anything we can do?” Andor tried not to say what he thought: if she was an agent worth saving. Sadly, they lost agents every day. He had lasted this long, maybe, but he didn’t know what the next day would bring, or whether he would be left in an Imperial prison to die because they didn’t have the resources to save him. That’s what the lullabies were for. 

But after twenty-five years—nineteen of them spent fighting—he really didn’t want to take his own life with a damn suicide pill. 

Draven continued. “Mon Mothma has left me with the instructions of sending you on a rescue mission. And I’m toying with ignoring that order.” 

He simply waited for the man to sort out his morality on his own. It didn’t take him very long. 

“She functions only under a callsign. Starbird A-5HA. Sometimes calls herself Asha. Her official cover ID is Specialist Asha Niraj. The Imperial base on Naboo. She was on a recovery mission. She’s been there for at least four days already. Scout the location first. If you can’t make it in, or if you don’t see an exit, or… or if you find out she’s dead, you get out of there, you understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” 


	2. Chapter II

**_Naboo_****_ // _****Imperial Outpost**** // **\- 94 

Cassian scouted the Imperial Base from the highest point of the ancient monument. At least he didn’t have to go through the swamp, he thought, but these Gungan statues were bad enough. At least they gave him enough height to see the outpost. The damn place wasn’t any bigger than a transport ship. 

Draven told him to scout his way in. If he didn’t see an entrance, he should abort. But counting six Stormtroopers outside meant about twelve inside. A platoon to guard this disgustingly small Imperial base. 

Before he could even consciously decide, Cassian found himself placing his blaster in sniper configuration. This agent didn’t deserve to die. Not here, anyway. 

He quickly scouted a way out—and a way down off the damn rock—if things went south. He eyed the way back to his ship. 

Then Cassian flattened his body against the top of the Gungan sacred place and waited. 

Time moved differently when he acted the sniper. His breaths came slower, quieter. He paid attention to each creak and snap and rustle in the forest and each bubble and squelch of the swamp. 

As he peered through the scope of his rifle, he soon memorized the patrol’s movements around the clearing, and as soon as he found his plan of attack, he shot. 

The first slumped against a blind spot near the rear corner of the base; the next went down in a darkened area near a copse of trees. The third found his epitaph written on the stone wall beneath one of the Empire’s flags. The fifth watched the fourth go down near the swamp and before he could call to his fellow troopers, he fell too. 

The sixth died, confused, near the comm tower. 

He didn’t rest on his laurels though. He jumped down off the monument and thanked it silently for being a perfect hiding spot. After dragging the two dead troopers from the front of the building to the back, he used his momentum to launch himself up the wall of the base. The one-story building was clearly built into the ground, but after he positioned himself above the only entryway, he waited, flattening himself once more to the stone. 

It took them embarrassingly long to check out why their patrol hadn’t radioed in. Three of them paraded out. None of them found the bodies yet. 

He didn’t stick around to see what they would do. Instead, Cassian jumped down in front of the main door and slid inside before it shut. 

Although cockiness would just get him killed, he couldn’t help but shake his head. The only way the Empire had gained this much traction was through intimidation by numbers. Surely it wasn’t their intelligence, Cassian thought. 

The main level was the communications hub. He immediately went to the computer, typing until he found what he was looking for: a map. One floor down was the barracks. The next floor below that was the hold and prisoner interrogation area. Seems they didn’t even have a prison, he thought. Guess prisoner comfort really wasn’t that important. 

Avoiding the elevator, he found the stairwell and slid down the handrail. Faster, effective, and a little fun, he admitted. Quieter than his heavy boot falls. 

Down the last stairwell, and he waited at the door, listening for any voices. When he heard a strangled cry, he decided it was better to find her alive and risk his own life than dead. He had made it this far, hadn’t he? 

He slipped through the unsecured stairwell door—do they ever really check the stairwell? Did they ever actually use it?—and through the nearly empty hold until he found the source of the noise: the interrogation room. The soundproofed room’s door sat barely ajar, letting the screams of the tortured out. 

But, from what he could hear, only one panting breath now sounded from the crack in the door. Labored, shallow, and swift, he waited until the owner seemingly relaxed or passed out, and with that, he entered the room. 

The interrogation room looked like a war zone. While he had accounted for 9 of 18 men so far, he counted three within the confines of the room: all in their black body gloves and out of their armor: one, a knife stuck out of his chest, the second, slumped against the back wall, his head bashed in, and the third, dropped, almost blue, at the bottom of the interrogation chair, not a single drop of blood on him. But he quickly noticed she did. 

From where he stood, the young woman hung limply from the interrogation chair, her right hand bound at her side and straps across her hips and legs. Her left hung loosely, unbound, blood dripping into a pool on the ground. The blood from her hand and the blood soaking through her pant leg nearly joined, flowing together like a flood. 

Cassian thought if he released her, she would just drop as if no bones were left in one piece in her body. What frightened him most—even more than how much blood she had lost—was the bruise in the shape of a hand print that darkened the skin of her neck. She may not even be alive. 

Focusing, he surveyed the room and finding no other security—why would they secure a room where the prisoner had no apparent means of escape?—and closed the distance between himself and the target. 

Target. Asha, he reminded himself, a vital part of their Intelligence operations, just like he was. And he preferred not to be called a target. 

“Asha,” he tried, immediately unhooking her other wrist. Slick blood slowed down the process. “Asha, can you hear me?” 

He turned towards the door, afraid someone may have heard him speak, but no one interrupted his work, until he felt the arm close around his throat and pin him against the machine. 

“I... I’ll snap your neck with one hand,” a wheezing, weak voice said. 

Although he knew he shouldn’t, he decided to snark at her all the same. “That’s impossible. Besides, you need someone to get you out of this hell hole.” 

She pulled tighter, and Cassian suddenly realized how at least one of the men had died. 

“30 seconds until you pass out. 5…5 minutes, and you die.” 

Grabbing at her arm, he already felt unconsciousness drawing towards him. “I would advise… against it.” 

“Who are you?” 

“Andor. The Alliance sent me.” 

“About… about time,” she gasped, leaning back into the chair and easing her grip off from his neck. He rubbed it once before setting back to work, peering at the bruises on the trooper at his feet, then glancing up to her again. 

He imagined she would have been pretty once, before the war, before the Empire flushed out and obliterated anything beautiful. For now, what he thought was typically tanned skin flushed pale, her dark eyes rimmed in bloodshot and bruise, and her black hair fell out of its wide crown braid in messy clumps. Asha had been here too long, and for once, he was less disgruntled to be placed on this mission. Her eyes betrayed her vitriolic words: pleading, relieved, and in extreme pain. 

She pushed his hands away as he tried to help her from the chair, but as soon as her feet hit the ground, her legs gave out. 

“Son of a bitch. Just… just give me a-a second,” she snapped, still breathless. Cassian knew they didn’t have time to wait, so he began checking his blaster. Her overconfidence quickly disappeared, though, and he saw her hesitation as she tried to stand. Sometime during the interrogation, her leg had been broken; he saw it now, with the bone sticking out through her ripped pant leg, and knew there was no way she could put weight on it without making it worse. 

Six men unaccounted for, and an operative with a broken leg. He had done worse with less, if he were being honest. 

“Go… go out there, f-find me a spare Stormtrooper uniform,” she said, groaning as she tried to pull herself up using the torture machine. Cassian didn’t wait to see if she could stand; instead, he did what she told him—knowing where she was going with it, he grabbed the pieces that would slide over her right leg and went back to her. 

“Listen,” she said louder. “I… I’m doing my best here. I could deal with—w-with…” 

Cassian strode back to her just as she started to slump to the floor. Dammit. She might be strong, but the Empire’s tactics are stronger. 

“Alright, Asha, we do not have the time for you to pretend you can’t do this. You killed three of them with three of your limbs restrained. Do you understand me?” 

“Let’s just get out of here, Andor,” she said, closing her eyes and cringing. 

“This is going to be unpleasant.” 

“You… you wouldn’t be the first man to tell me that.” 

He readjusted her leg and quickly pulled forward, extending the bones and hopefully aligning them better than where they were. And with that, Asha cried out, tears rolling from them as she bit her lip back until it bled. 

Without another word, he slid the boot onto her foot and pieced the armor together around her bleeding leg, forcing the bones to shift once more. Her breaths turned ragged—he smacked her face just hard enough for her to open her eyes wide. 

“C’mon, Asha. Up.” 

She didn’t speak. Cassian didn’t think she could. Once he slid her arm around his shoulders, he grasped onto her hip and they started forward, this time, up the elevator. At least the height difference wasn’t too bad, he thought; it could be worse. 

When it hit the ground level, the bolts hit the back wall before the doors completely opened. Cassian nearly dropped, and it forced them to split, hiding behind either side of the doors. They were blocked and surrounded. 

Asha pulled herself upright, using the wall as a brace. In her hand, she held a small white cylinder. 

“Where’d you get that?” Cassian couldn’t stop himself from asking. 

“Lifted it in the hold,” she said, shifting so her injured hand held close against stomach. He anticipated broken ribs, but it couldn’t be helped now. As she held the thermal detonator, he saw that her hand shook. “Do a girl a favor and see where I’ve got to throw this thing.” 

Cassian smirked, and leaned barely out of cover before the blaster bolts unleashed. 

“Their friends are back.” 

“All six?” 

“You were counting?” 

“I’m assuming you killed the patrol.” 

“Of course, I killed the patrol.” 

“So, nine.” 

“Six in echelon formation, closest to me. Past the computer station, closer to the door. 10 meters.” 

Cassian wasn’t sure if she could stand up, let alone accurately toss a grenade. In fact, she wavered, leaning heavily on the wall, before taking a deep breath amidst the blaster fire. 

“You might want to take cover,” she said, arming the thermal detonator and tossing it forward. 

The explosion shook the building, causing dust and pieces of rock to tumble down off the ceiling. Cassian looked out the open elevator doors to the remnants of the tiny base, and upon noticing no Stormtrooper shifted in weight or moved towards a lost weapon, he turned to Asha. She had slid to the floor, now covered in dust from the blast. 

He grasped onto her waist again, as she clutched to him, trying to walk her way out of the rubble. As they passed a now broken emergency locker, Cassian stopped, grabbed the bag inside, and closed it unceremoniously. 

With the outpost eliminated and the patrol dead, he completely expected this kind of outcome. 

Quickly, he checked the computers and turned off the alarm system. She leaned on the computer bay, her breath coming in short waves. 

“Anything good?” She asked as he typed. She leaned against a heavy looking chunk of ceiling. When she drew her hand away from the light grey, she left blood streaks. 

“Nothing important,” he said, “But I’m sending it to the ship anyways.”  
Asha just nodded, trying to take a deeper breath, but she just let half of it out in a pained exhale. 

“Didn’t see this one coming,” she said, conversationally and breathlessly. 

He did. “You strike me as the kind of soldier who favors the clean slate kind of kill rather than one shot at a time.” 

“Wouldn’t you rather just blow up a building full of Imperials instead of potshot them all one by one?” 

He couldn’t disagree. Instead, he pulled her arm over his shoulders and nearly carried her out of the rubble. She tried to support her weight, but the further they got from the base, the more she leaned into him. 

She nearly dropped to her knees when the blaster fire started. Apparently, Cassian thought, he should have checked the vital signs of the men in the bunker. He got sloppy. And now he couldn’t reach his blaster. 

It quickly stopped being a problem, though: in one swift movement, Asha relieved him of his blaster, leaned into his hand still holding her up, turned back and fired a volley at the building. The blaster fire quickly stopped. 

“I don’t like it when people steal my blaster,” he said as she slipped it back in his holster. 

“You’re welcome for… for saving your ass,” she retorted. 

Now no one could follow them or track them into the blackness of space, and as soon as they boarded his ship, they could be rid of the damn planet. Cassian tried not to dump Asha into the co-pilot’s seat, but she let out a pained harrumph regardless; he knew right now, her pain could be ignored—in case any other Stormtroopers cared to take potshots. 

Regardless of her worsening condition, she already started pressing buttons. With each touch, he saw her leave blood streaks, and with each touch, she got slower. 

As they started to clear the atmosphere of the planet, he spoke. “I need—“ 

“The calculations for the jump, I know,” she said, her voice not stern or irritated, but more neutral and soft. Even so, she kept working. 

With each of his heavy breaths, he could hear hers waning. As the indicator light that they could jump started blinking, Asha slumped into the chair before she could push the lever. 

Cursing, Cassian leaned over and thrust the lever upwards. The stars shifted, elongated, and they were gone. 

And he was afraid so was she. 

Putting the ship on autopilot, he quickly pulled Asha from the co-pilot’s seat and back towards the stern. The bag he had stolen from the outpost quickly emptied itself when he turned it over, but it didn’t hold as much as he had wanted. 

“Asha. Wake up,” he said sternly, peering around the hold for anything and everything he could use. Triage wasn’t his strong suit. He was usually the one doing the work, not trying to reverse it. And he wasn’t one to botch a job. 

Leaving her on the grated floor, he went back to the equipment storage lockers, but mostly found weapons. Blasters wouldn’t do him any good. Not yet, at least, and he wasn’t willing to risk his nearly successful mission just because he couldn’t help her. 

He pulled out remnants of the previous owner’s clothing and decided it was good enough, unsheathed his knife and started tearing the pieces into strips before he even went back to Asha. 

She hadn’t awakened yet. It was only getting worse. Cassian thought for a minute how badly they needed her, and quickly glanced back to the equipment locker. 

No, this was his mission. He had to deal with the consequences regardless and getting her out alive was the primary goal. 

He pulled the white Stormtrooper armor from her leg, and she didn’t stir, not even in pain. It still bled, although the bone had shifted back in when he reset it earlier. 

Unceremoniously, he ripped the fabric around her thigh, discarding the ripped and bloody pant leg. After pulling the ripped fabric from the wound, he quickly unlaced and removed her boots, then discarded the destroyed item of clothing. Right now, it would only be a hindrance. 

Her eyes fluttered, and all he knew of the woman made him think she was in extreme duress; she didn’t seem the type to falter easily. Besides, he thought she was a Pamarthen, considering her appearance, and from his experience, she would fight tooth and nail through anything, including a few life-threatening wounds. 

Although he had probably saved her leg by setting it, he was clearly not a medical professional. He got the bleeding to stop, but the wound remained: he retrieved the bacta spray from the medical kit and sprayed it over her leg. The cold and wet antiseptic must have startled her, because she blinked awake. 

“Welcome back to the realm of the living,” Cassian said. She held her bloody hand close to her, and it shook. 

“I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t call it living, exactly.” 

“You survived, didn’t you? And you’re out of Imperial clutches.” 

“For now, at least,” she groaned, easing herself into a seated position. With a kick from her uninjured leg, she leaned against the seats. 

With an unceremonious swipe, she wiped the blood from her lips and warily looked down to her hand. Her fingers warped in a locked position, covered in blood. Pulling off her belt with her good hand, she adjusted her belt buckle, slid it under her fingers, and tried to bend her fingers back, but Cassian stopped her. 

“Let me do that for you.” 

“Not one to ask for help.” 

“This mission must be very inconvenient for you, then.” 

“What, getting rescued?” She says, her breath finally slowing, although still ragged. “It’s not my style.” 

“I could have left you there, if you preferred.” 

“Just because it’s not my style doesn’t mean I’m not appreciative,” she said, leaning her head back onto the cold, hard seat. “They’re not mutually exclusive.” 

She made a good point, Cassian thought. Regardless, she went ahead and bent it until her fingers were flat. Cassian heard the crack of her bones shifting, even as she panted. 

“It will take us three days to make it to Yavin IV,” he began, raiding the ship’s holds and lockers as he spoke. “You’re not going to last that long without actual medical supplies, and I don’t have enough left for the both of us. There’s a small Rebel outpost on Milagro. We can stop there, change ships and head for Yavin.” 

“How long?” 

“Six hours.” 

Asha promptly nodded, slumped her head back, and fell slipped into unconsciousness, leaving Cassian to bandage her in silence. 


	3. Chapter III

**_Milagro_****_ // _****Rebel Outpost**** // **-94 

Asha didn’t stir, even on their arrival to Milagro. The arid planet did provide enough cover for their little band of misfits to hide out in the caves in the middle of nowhere. While they didn’t have a lot of ships to choose from, the YT-2400 freighter suited Cassian just fine; after some finagling and a promise of a hefty favor, the ship and supplies were his. 

When he returned back to the ship, Asha had awakened. When he approached her, her bruised and bloody visage shifted to surprise. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked sharply. 

Her behavior kept surprising Cassian, but her concern felt valid. “We’re switching ships. We’re in Milagro. Don’t you remember?” 

“I do remember,” she drifted, “I thought you left me.” 

He shook his head. “Letting you die would be a waste. Besides, we’ve gotten this far.” 

“That’s reassuring,” she said, not sounding reassured at all. In fact, she just sounded more and more exhausted and in pain, so as soon as Cassian transferred their stolen Imperial base information to their new ship and taken as many supplies as he could over to the freighter, he went back for Asha. 

She didn’t even complain when he picked her up and moved her to the crew quarters section of the small freighter. In fact, with her uninjured hand, she grasped onto his jacket like she didn’t want him to let go. He attributed it to her distress. 

As soon he finished the calculations to hyperspace and determined it would be a two-and-a-half-day trip from Milagro to Yavin, he made it a priority to give Asha proper medical attention. When he got to the living quarters, she already—albeit painful, he assumed—had started pulling the makeshift bandages from her leg. Her broken fingers did not make it any easier, he thought, and strode into the room, shaking his head. 

“Asha. Stop. Stop trying to do it yourself.” 

With a heavy sigh, she leaned back, already exhausted. “I don’t like this,” she admitted. 

“I’ve known you for about eight hours, and I’m already positive of that,” he said, helping her to finish the job. 

“Let me see your hand,” he said, and she almost reluctantly gave it to him; the bacta spray helped to wash away some of the blood and ease the furrowing of her brow. 

Clearing her throat, she spoke quietly. “Thanks, Andor.” 

“Captain Cassian Andor,” he corrected, not sharply, like he usually intended. 

“You already know enough of my name,” she said. “Do you, uh, can I wash the blood off my face?” 

Silently, he hunted through the supplies on the freighter long enough to find water and a clean enough rag. She took it without question, running the lukewarm water over her face until the blood gave way to a golden tan punctuated by her dark brown eyes. The bruises had already started to fade, and even with the chapped skin on her lips, she almost started to look normal again. 

He brought her a glass of water, and it disappeared before he had realized she grasped it in her uninjured hand. 

“It took me three days to get to Naboo,” he began, unwinding the bandages from the supplies he had gotten from the base, “How long did they have you in custody?” 

“In custody?” She asked, chuckling until she clutched her side. Cassian also expected her to have broken ribs. “If we’re calling it ‘custody’, fine, but it sure as hell didn’t feel like that. I’m not sure, to answer your question. A week. Maybe ten days.” 

He tried not to show his disbelief. No wonder she looked the way she did. “And your mission?” 

“Simo Oron—I’m sure you know of him—he was detained at that base until he got transferred off world. All his personal effects were left behind. I had to retrieve the sensitive contact list he left there before the Empire found it.” 

“Did you get it?” 

“Yes and no,” Asha explained. “I found his effects, I found the list, I read and memorized the list and promptly destroyed it.” 

“Why?” 

“The Imperials are not a quiet bunch. I heard them coming. Since I knew I didn’t have time to escape, I memorized the information before they inevitably captured me.” 

“Did they know about the list?” 

“They tried to access the data, but it was corrupted,” she says, running the wet rag over her bruised neck absentmindedly. “They tried to get it out of me.” 

“You’ve done a service for the Alliance,” Cassian said. He meant it, too. They would have killed her, and rightly so. 

“Not the first time,” she muttered, trying to shift her weight. He did his best to bandage her leg, and in the silence between them, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Cassian decided not to bother her; instead, he did his best to wrap the wound. When he was done, he found the makeshift brace the Rebels gave him on Milagro and started wrapping it around her leg. 

“You know,” he said, and she barely lifted her head and her eyes, “That brace was a pretty smart idea.” 

“Not the first time,” she repeated. 

Cassian thought not to ask, as the woman was already drifting in and out of consciousness, so he moved to her hand, looking at her fingers to determine which were broken. He removed her metal bracers, still dripping with her blood. 

“Second and fourth,” she said, clearing her throat. “I tried… I tried to set them before, but I didn’t have the strength.” 

Grasping tightly to her wrist, he didn’t tell her when he would reset the first one; by the time he reset the second, she was awake but nearly catatonic. While he had heard legends of the Pamarthens having a high pain tolerance, he expected she was still an outlier. 

“Where are you from?” He tried to make small talk, only for the fear if she fell back asleep, she wouldn’t wake up. 

“Are you asking because you want to know, or because you’re afraid I’m going to die?” 

“A bit of both,” he admitted, strapping her fingers to the next nearest unbroken finger. 

“There’s a tiny island just south of Islatelé—the capital—called Moku’Olana,” Asha said breathlessly. “You?” 

“Fest,” Cassian said, “The other side of the galaxy.” 

“Isn’t that all mountains and snow?” She said, “I lived just footsteps from the beach.” 

“Well, not every planet can be Pamarthe,” he said, and when he looked up to her, she smiled. Even amidst the blood and the bruises and her obvious pain, she smiled. 

“I never said it was Pamarthe.” 

“I gathered that information myself.” 

But even that smile faded eventually, as her eyes grew veiled. “So, why’d they decide to come get me?” Asha asked. 

“I don’t understand the question,” he said. 

“The Alliance. Why did they rescue me? The policy is if you’re caught, you die.” 

Cassian shook his head. “I didn’t ask. They didn’t tell me.” He stood up, listening to her labored breathing, and got her another glass of water. He didn’t watch her, but he could hear her thinking. 

“I’m all they’ve got left,” she said quietly. “The rest of them are dead.” 

He didn’t say a word; he slipped the cold glass in her hand once more as she let her mind drift. 

“There were a dozen of us at first. Trained us to be spies, but also slicers. We got good. We got damn good,” she said. “I got better. And now, it seems I’m the last one they’ve got, and I bet you they’ve got a mission waiting for me.” 

Everything made sense to him now. The callsigns, the extra security surrounding her identity. No one knew what her name was. Draven probably didn’t even know. Hell, the only person who knew who she really was on this side of the galaxy was Asha herself. 

“There’s no point in bringing yourself down about it. People die. We move on.” 

She just harrumphed, then cringed, seemingly regretting the nonchalant noise due to the pain it caused in her chest. “Aren’t you a ray of sunshine?” 

“I don’t have the luxury of being optimistic,” he said, wrapping more of the bandage around her wrist. Open cuts alerted him to where her bonds bore into her skin. The other was less maimed, but he cleaned it up and bandaged it anyway. 

“I understand that. You know, the Empire taking over our entire galaxy and all. But you don’t have to be grumpy.” 

“Oh? And what do you consider yourself?” 

“A realist.” 

“That’s just a pessimist in denial.” 

“You’re a pessimist in denial,” she grumbled, blinking her eyes to try to keep them open. Cassian figured she was through the worst of it, so he found some sort of pillow for her as he milled about the living quarters. As he approached her, she gave him some semblance of a smile. When she leaned back into the pillow, he saw some of her pain seemingly fade. 

“Thank you, Cassian.” 

“You’re welcome, Asha.” 

She smirked. “Maybe someday.” 

“Someday what?” He asked, but she had already drifted off to sleep. Before he headed back to the cockpit, he found a blanket and draped it over her. 

* * *

**_Somewhere along the _****_Corellian_****_ Run_****_ // _****YT-2400 freighter**** // **\- 93 

When Cassian stirred awake two hours after he had sat down, he was more surprised than concerned. He had sat down to check on Asha, and seemingly, fallen asleep next to her; at some point, though, she had shifted, moved to the other side of the room, and curled up as best she could on the benches near the table. 

Cassian tried not to be offended. In fact, he was angrier at himself for falling asleep. Maybe it was the back-to-back missions. Had it been… six days since he actually got a full night’s sleep? He just rubbed his eyes. 

He approached where Asha had gone, somehow, with her leg; she had fallen back to sleep in a position not conducive, he thought, to comfort. 

“Asha. Asha, wake up.” 

She jolted, moving her hands to protect her face immediately. She tried to form her hands into fists, but they didn’t quite get there. 

“It’s just me. Cassian.” 

She grumbled something that he couldn’t hear, then shifted enough that something audibly cracked. “Have we made it?”  
“About halfway.” 

“Gods, does this beast have any food?” She fumbled with a delicate necklace, one she pulled out from under her shirt. 

He found some food packs from the stack of supplies he had gotten, but she just looked disgusted when he sat one down in front of her. 

“I’m sorry, this was the best I could do.” 

She pulled her leg up onto the seat next to her and opened the packet of food, then delicately shoved as much as she could hold into her mouth at once. 

At first Cassian thought to admonish her for it, but after a second thought, he realized she hadn’t eaten in almost two weeks. 

“Can you even taste it?” 

“Honestly, Cassian, if it doesn’t have some sort of chili paste on it, I don’t really taste it anymore.” 

“Pamarthe. Right,” he said.

“And I’ll drink you under the table anywhere,” she said, finishing off her box. He nonchalantly tossed her another. 

“That, I am sure of.” 

“I’m assuming you’ve never tried it.” 

He knew she was referring to their drink of choice—a red wine, aptly named Port in a Storm, had been described as ‘drinking a supernova’. He just shook his head. 

“I drank three bottles once. I finally passed out then. My friend Tama, he had to carry me off the beach, because the tide was coming in and I would have likely drowned. He had four bottles that day. I don’t know how he managed it.” 

“And one sip could put me under the table,” he said, finishing off his meal as she finished off her second. She just smiled poignantly, looking down at the floor, before shaking her head to fend off the thoughts. 

“Let me see your hand,” he said, and although she offered it to him, she started unwinding her hair. Once he deemed the bandages still decent, he checked on her leg, but nothing seemed to be out the ordinary. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“More than expected? No. Does it suck? Definitely yes,” she said. Cassian watched her as she untwisted the braids in her hair: the low bun in the back gave way to long strands, and eventually, her hair fell loose over her shoulders and down her back. Looking, he saw it pooled on the seat. The errant clumps of hair from before settled back into the long, wavy mass, and she looked exhausted just unleashing it from whence it came. 

“I think it expanded,” he said, matter-of-factly, but it made Asha burst into laughter. She quickly stopped, cringing. 

“It tends to do that,” she said, shaking it out away from her neck. He let her attempt to work in silence, as he began to clean up from their meal. Her low harrumphs and grumbles made it sound to him like she was losing the fight. 

As she tried to rebraid the mass, she just kept managing to get it stuck on her finger splints. 

Eventually, she let out a loud huff. 

“Is something bothering you, Asha?” 

“I know this is a long shot, but do you think—do you—can you…” 

“Is there… something you want to ask me?” 

“Can you help me? Are you capable of helping me?” She finally groaned. Not willing to watch her suffer, Cassian gestured for her to sit on the bench-like bed, and he sat down behind her. 

“Are you telling me you can do a crown braid?” She deadpanned, and he knelt to get a better vantage point. 

“If I can make a Perniddyan knot, I think I can handle a crown braid.” 

“That, admittedly, is kind of attractive,” she said, and he exhaled sharply, grateful to hide his smirk behind her. His confidence was surface level, though; he wasn’t sure if he could plait it like she could, but he knew he would try. 

Standing, since her hair was so long, he parted it into sections and began braiding. Wide and strong like rope, he just did it slower and gentler, and it seemed to work, at least to him. He worked along the other side, pulling it into a ponytail at the base of her neck, then started braiding it. 

Briefly, it got stuck on her necklace, and he tried to untangle it. 

“Sorry, it got stuck,” he said, nearly a whisper. 

She reached back and unknotted the thin black cord, holding the pendant tightly in her hand. 

“What is it?” 

She opened her hand and showed him the charm. It was a large, irregularly shaped black pearl, nearly as big as her thumbnail. When she moved her hand—intentionally or whether she shook—it shined blue and green and purple in the florescent light. 

“It was my mother’s,” she explained. “She gave it to me when I left.” 

“It’s beautiful,” he said, finding himself slightly in awe of the frivolous item this seemingly tough, no nonsense individual clung to. Instead of saying anything further, though, he continued to braid. 

“Is there a reason you wear your hair so long?” He asked, his arms surprisingly tired from the work. He didn’t know how she expected to do it by herself. 

But Asha, she listened to the silence, staring off instead of answering. At first, Cassian didn’t think she heard him, and he opened his mouth to ask again—she interrupted his thoughts. 

“It’s tradition on my planet. Well, on my island, at least. I don’t know if they do it all over anymore. When we are on a mission, whether it be planet side or elsewhere, we don’t cut our hair until the mission is complete.” 

“Oh. I see,” he tried, piecing together the story, somewhere in between the explanation and her tone. “And what about your mission?” 

“It’s not complete,” she said darkly. 

* * *

**_Somewhere along the _****_Hydian_****_ Way_****_ // _****YT-2400 freighter**** // **\- 91 

From the living quarters, Cassian heard whimpering. It could only be caused by Asha, he knew; still, he put the ship into autopilot and left the cockpit. Asha tried to shift on the bed, but she just wound herself in the blanket he had given her. When he got to her, he tried to pull the blanket off, but she just whimpered in pain. He stopped; she still slept, but her face contorted and sweat ran down her cheeks. 

He pulled the blanket from her grip. When he did, she brought her hands back into her chest, and she shivered. Her entire body quaked, and for the first time in a long time, Cassian had no idea what to do. Whatever it was, it escalated so quickly. 

With a careful hand, he touched her forehead, and amidst the sweat, he knew she suffered from a serious fever. How could he not see this coming? He should have known. He didn’t know how long she suffered from her wounds untreated. An infection isn’t a surprise. 

He checked their location. Six hours to Yavin IV. He didn’t know if she had that much time left in her. Cassian tried to wake her up, but when she blinked wide her eyes, he was unsure whether she even knew what was going on. 

“Asha? Asha, can you hear me?” 

He guided her face to look to his, but her eyes barely focused. “Where’s Tama? They’re telling me… he can’t be dead. They… they killed him. The-The Empire.” 

She had slipped into confused delusions. Cassian went to the galley in search of cold water, and decided using up most of their store wasn’t up for debate. He wet a rag and brought it back to her as she shivered. Lifting her up, he settled down, laying her head in his lap as he wiped the cold rag over her face. Asha continued to mutter under her breath. He couldn’t discern what she was saying, but he tried to cool down her fever with the cool water. 

She reached for his hand, clasping her fingers between his. Cassian, although surprised at the act, let it happen. If she died, at least she would die comfortable. 

He found himself hoping she wouldn’t. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

A gentle alarm woke him up. It was the hyperspace alarm: five minutes before they dropped out and arrived at their location. Yavin IV was close. 

With a moment of panic, a lapse of judgment, he realized he had fallen asleep again. This time, though, she didn’t move: he didn’t know if she could. But her breathing had slowed to a normal level, and although her fever seemed to still be present, she didn’t shiver as badly. 

She still held onto his hand, albeit loosely, like she didn’t want to let go. But he had to, and he lay her back down, gently, before heading to the cockpit. Rubbing his eyes, he was happier than normal to head back to Yavin. As much as he hated it, he definitely needed sleep. 

He dropped them out of hyperspace with Yavin IV right in sight. Immediately, he tapped in the code down to the base to allow them through. 

Cassian realized he didn’t know the ship’s identification, so he quickly found it and patched it through. “Freighter 4673787, requesting a landing pad.” 

“Freighter 4673787, we have no record of you in our systems.” 

“Acknowledged. Contact General Draven. This is Fulcrum. I repeat, this is Fulcrum. I’m carrying Starbird A-5HA as per his orders. She’s badly wounded and needs immediate medical attention. Transmitting clearance code.” 

A moment passed, and he almost didn’t think they would let him through, until Draven’s voice grumbled across the radio. 

“What’s the situation?” 

Cassian multitasked, bringing the ship down into the planet’s atmosphere. 

“Broken leg. Compound fracture. Broken fingers, lacerated wrists, possible broken ribs as well. She’s critical. I’ve done what triage I can, but she may be going into shock.” 

“Cleared for landing,” Draven says, exasperated. “We’ll have medical waiting.” 

He eased the freighter down between some of the other, smaller fighter ships on the landing pad outside of the temple just as he saw the medical team—a single droid and a gurney—rushing from the building. 

Cassian wanted to get to Asha before it did, though, and as soon as he landed the ship, he ran. The droid hadn’t boarded, and Asha, now awake, looked desperately, blearily, around the ship. 

“Cassian? What’s happening?” She tried, but he tried to calm her down with a hand on her shoulder. 

“We’ve landed,” he explained, slipping his hands under her knees whilst trying not to bump her makeshift cast. “You need to get to the med bay.” With that, he grasped her behind her shoulders and lifted her up. She easily leaned into him as he carried her off the ship, and she grasped her fingers around his jacket lapel. He felt his heart jump. This shouldn’t be happening. 

She coughed, her voice weak. “Cassian, where are we?” 

“Yavin IV.” 

“Don’t… don’t leave me. Please.” 

Although he knew she was in the throes of a fever, her words still struck him and made his blood run cold. He knew he couldn’t leave her. Not even if he wanted. 

When he lay her down on the gurney, she tried to hold onto him, bring him with them, but the medical droid forced her to lay down and let go of his jacket. 

“Cassian, please,” she tried, reaching for his hand. 

The droid quickly administered some sort of sedative, causing her to drop her hand down to the gurney. 

He stepped towards them, thought about following, but saw Draven approach quickly. 

“Captain Andor. We’d like to brief you now.” 

Although his eyes followed Asha and the medical droid as they disappeared into the building, he nodded in confirmation and started following Draven back through another entrance. 

When he got there, Mon Mothma wrung her hands. It was a blatant disregard of protocol, Cassian thought, but he knew better than to ask. Whatever concerned her, it probably lay in the fate of the Alliance. He knew the situation was dire, and it weighed on Mon Mothma. He could see it in her eyes. 

“Captain Andor. You succeeded in retrieving Asha,” she began. “Firstly, I’d like to thank you. Secondly, how is she even alive?” 

Draven looked down at a report. Cassian didn’t hide his surprise, knowing the droid worked fast. “Broken ribs. Broken fingers, a broken leg. Multiple lacerations on her face and hands, and various bruises. Now, they’re saying she has blood poisoning. Andor, how did you even manage to bring her home?” 

Cassian knew his surprised feeling slipped past just his mind and graced his face, because both had visible reactions. Mon Mothma voiced hers. 

“You didn’t know how badly she was injured, did you?” 

“I traded for supplies on our base in Milagro, and triaged her myself. She seemed hurt, but stable, up until we got back. I was unaware of the infection until recently. I did the best I could.” 

“We’re using what bacta we have to try to heal her wounds, but she’ll be grounded,” Draven announced, setting down his report document. 

“It’s better than we feared, but worse than we hoped,” Mon Mothma confirmed, “You did the Alliance a true service in making sure she came home.” 

“We also acquired some files at the Imperial base,” Cassian added, “They will be in the data drives of the ship we arrived in.” 

Draven nodded once to Cassian, and went to retrieve the information. Mon Mothma, on the other hand, stepped closer to him, dropping her voice low. 

“I would like to thank you personally for bringing her home,” she said. “Captain Andor, she’s the last slicer we have left, and it is imperative we have her start working on a mission for us right away.” 

“Is there a reason you want me involved?” 

“You’ll be escorting her. The two of you will be working together.” 


	4. Chapter IV

**_Yavin_****_ IV_****_ // _****Base One**** // **\- 91 

Later, he headed towards the recovery rooms in their medical section of the temple, hoping he would have some good news for the day. When he arrived, Asha slept in one of the hospital beds. The bruises on her face and neck had disappeared, her fingers were appropriately strapped, and he assumed she finally had a legitimate cast on her broken leg. 

“Miss Asha is highly medicated, so I would suggest caution,” the 2-1B droid said from the opposite corner of the room. “Her condition is stable. Are you Captain Cassian Andor?” 

“I am,” he answered, looking down to Asha and back to the droid in confusion. 

“She spoke about you,” the droid said. “In her confusion caused by the blood poisoning, she called out for you several times. You are the one that provided initial medical care?” 

“I… I am.” 

“While your triage was moderate at best, it seems as if your bedside manner was more than appropriate.” 

Cassian just exhaled loudly. Sitting down on the edge of her bed, the droid decided to leave them alone; she shifted positions then, after opening her eyes just a little, peered at him tiredly. 

“You made it,” he said, watching her face go from in pain to mildly amused. While he didn’t understand why her amusement felt so important to him, he decided the brief lapse in judgment was for a worthy cause. 

“Barely,” she said, clenching her eyes shut as she attempted to adjust. “Was that… that…” 

“Droid?” He offered, as she almost offensively flailed her unhurt hand towards 2-1B. 

“Yeah, the droid…” she began, then furrowed her brow. “I forget.” 

“I heard that happens when you’re on pain medication,” he said. 

“Listen, Cassian,” she whispered, drawing him closer, beckoning him in. “Cassian. They can’t cut my hair. Please, don’t—“ 

“They’re not—“ 

“Listen to me, Cassian,” she said, “Listen. Cassian, I’m not finished. My mission isn’t finished. Don’t… don’t let them cut my hair.” 

“She has been addressing that issue every time she wakes,” the droid mentioned, almost exasperated. If a droid could sound exasperated. “I have tried to indicate that I will not, in fact, cut her hair.” 

“Cassian,” She whispered again, reaching up to his face and pushing his chin ever so slightly so he was forced to look at her. Her fingers lingered. “You have to promise. You… promise me.” Her thumb almost absentmindedly ran across his cheek. 

“I promise they won’t cut your hair,” he said, if only to satiate her medicated needs. She seemed happy enough with that answer, though, and she dropped her hand, her eyes already blinking back unconsciousness. 

“Thank you, Cassian,” she muttered, slipping back into sleep. 

Cassian didn’t wait around. He had his own things to take care of while his new partner healed. 

But as he walked down the hallway, he found himself touching his fingertips to where hers graced his cheek. 

* * *

**_Yavin_****_ IV_****_ // _****Base One**** // **\- 78 

As Cassian walked among the ships on the landing pad, one seemed to be suffering a worse fate than the others. He hadn’t seen her in several days, but she was definitely making her presence known now: she let out a string of unintelligible words that sounded to Cassian like Pamarthen curse words. 

He circled the ship—a stolen Imperial Zeta-class cargo shuttle—and found the source of the cursing: Asha had moved a cargo container near the ship, arranged it so she could lay, her broken and splinted leg outstretched, across it; she bent over backwards to try to reach whatever panel she was searching for. Cassian realized then it was unclear why she was cursing. 

“Do you make a habit of cursing at inanimate objects?” 

She swung herself up, her face only a little red from exertion, to face him. Unceremoniously, she wiped her dirty hands on a towel that didn’t look as though she could achieve any level of cleanliness using it. 

“Only when they deserve it, obviously. Where have you been?” 

“I have my own missions, you know. And I see you’re taking things slow.” 

“I’m already bored,” she admitted, reaching down and searching in her toolbox for something she apparently needed right at that moment. “At least when I was being tortured, I could hunt for information.” 

“You are an interesting human being, Asha.” 

“You know that’s not my name, right?” She said, bending over backwards again and wrenching on some sort of heavy looking bolt. “That’s just my designation.” 

“Starbird A-5HA,” he recited. “I read the report.” 

“It’s so we can keep our privacy, even when we’re slicing,” she explained, going from wrenching to whacking. After a particularly hard thwack, she touched a hand to her side, grimacing. “Do you know why?” 

“Why?” 

She looked up at him, blowing her errant strands of hair from her face. “Because we’re even more dangerous than then normal Rebel to be around. So, ask yourself a question, Cassian: sticking with me is like flirting with Death himself. Is that something you’re really up for?” 

For a second, Cassian considered saying no, walking away, and avoiding the woman. It would be easy. He had only heard whispers of her before. But something else bothered him about her: her cockiness, her bravado, seemed surface level. Had she really wanted to die, she would have taken herself out on Naboo, not suffer for ten days. In fact, he had never heard of anyone surviving that long in captivity. Others gave up. But she didn’t, and that wasn’t about confidence. That was about a will to live, and she had something to live for. Overconfidence, for many, fit like a mask. 

But that would achieve nothing. He had to work with her once she had healed. 

“I like a challenge,” he said, pulling himself up to sit on the cargo container. “Besides, you’re going to have to get used to me. We have our next mission together.” 

“I’ve been briefed,” she said, huffing as she smacked… something. Her intentions lacked clarity. “Hand me the… the hydrospanner.” 

He looked about the area, and found the small tool not in its box, but on the ground, out of reach. He swapped tools from her waiting hand, still bandaged. 

“Thanks.” 

“Do you do a lot of work on the starships around here?” 

“Only when I’m laid up on medical leave.” 

“Should you really be leaning over like that, with your ribs?” 

“What are you, my doctor?” She cringed, taking a shuddering breath. “I just need—one more—_fuck!”_

Asha jolted hard, tumbling off the cargo container and onto the hard ground. Cassian jumped to his feet, already seeing some of the other techs looking frantically in their direction. He waved them off, hoping she didn’t need additional medical attention. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m fine,” she muttered, shakily rolling to her back. Wincing, she grasped her side, and Cassian knew she had hit the tool box as she fell. 

“If you say it three times, it must be true,” he commented, holding out a hand to help her up. She took it, but with her broken leg, he nearly picked her up to set her back down on top of the crate. 

“Damn machine,” she spat, picking up the wrench she lost in the electrical shock and tossing it at the body of the ship. It bounced off the metal and skid across the ground. 

“What exactly are you trying to do, anyway?” He asked, checking her hands for burns. Neither suffered a burn, but her right hand—the initial location of the shock—had clenched tightly as it spasmed. She glared at it, seemingly willing it to move again. 

“What do you think we have to do to get these ships up and running? We’ve got to disengage the trackers, which is what I was doing on this one,” she explained. “Steal the existing information, then wipe what information that could lead back to us in case it’s captured when in use. Sometimes we try to reverse engineer the weapons systems. Improve them, make them better, use them for our ships. _Fucking hand—“_

She tried to shake the spasm out of her fingertips, but they stayed locked up. Cassian took it, gently, slipped the metal bracer from her wrist, and started trying to work the shock from her hand. As he did, however, he was unable to work the shock from her face. 

“And you do this… as a hobby?” He said, skeptical. 

She looked anywhere but at him. “Back on Pamarthe, my dad had a workshop. Up until the Empire pulled this shit, he did well for himself. I was helping him since I was… well, six, but really wrenching on things since I was twelve. It reminds me of him sometimes.” 

“Where is he now?” 

“Moku’Olana. Still running the shop. As far as I know, my sister’s helping him.” 

“Your sister?” 

She betrayed herself, touching the necklace absentmindedly. “You know I shouldn’t tell you her name. You already know too much.” 

He just nodded, looking down at her hand. Her fingers twitched again, showing improvement. Cassian knew he could stop, but something made him want to keep holding on to her. Although he wanted to fight it, that it was just weakness, he stayed. 

“It’s Mina,” she said, barely under her breath. “My sister,” she explained. 

“Mina? It’s a beautiful name,” he said. He stopped, and she flexed her hand, the feeling and control back into it. He just hoped that someday she would give him her real name. 

“Can I ask you something?” She said, her voice slipping into that quiet tone he heard on the ship to Yavin. She didn’t wait for his answer. “Why do you keep trying to help me?” 

Dropping her hand, he just gave her a nod. “Because you keep needing help,” he said, stepping back from her. Without a goodbye, he turned and headed back into the temple. Even Cassian had to hide a smirk. 

* * *

**_Yavin_****_ IV_****_ // _****Base One**** // **\- 64 

The last time he had seen Asha, she had been angling to get her cast off. They were almost ready. The mission parameters were almost decided, and as soon as she could get on her feet, they would head out. 

But for now, he had to find her. Something told him she was out here, but as the massive blood red shadow of Yavin slipped further below the horizon, it started to get colder. 

He knew he shouldn’t worry about her, but he did. It had become second nature already. 

Just off of the base, though, he knew where she was. The small monument that matched the temple behind him just breached the trees, he thought; as he squinted, he thought he saw a shadow on top. That would be her first stop if she decided to get some air. 

Cassian quickly climbed up the steep exterior of the monument, until, just after breaking out of the tops of the trees, he saw her feet dangling off the side. Pulling himself up onto the flat roof top, it was barely the size of the cargo hold of the last ship he stole. 

She had been wearing a cloak, but now she used it as a sort of picnic blanket; behind her were several bottles of varying colored liquid. 

“Hey, Cassian,” she said, not even turning around to look at him. He took his cue to sit, but he kept his distance from her; she finished off whatever bottle she was drinking from and set it down, empty, behind her. 

“What seems to be the occasion?” 

“Do we have to have one?” She said. Even with the amount of empties behind her, her speech wasn’t even slurred. “You missed out on the Corellian ale. I definitely finished that first, sorry.” 

“You’ve got anything fit for human consumption?” Cassian asked, leaning back to look at her bottles. 

“Start with the Corellian rum. I’ve got two more bottles of that. Then we can hit my Whyren’s Reserve—“ 

“How did you get a hold of _that?_” He asked in disbelief. She leaned back, found a square bottle with an intricately designed neck, and held it lovingly in her hands. “Do you know how many credits…?” 

“Oh, I know,” she said. “And I intend on drinking it. I have this too if you’re interested.” She held up another bottle, and with reverence, she offered it almost to the sky. “Port in a Storm.”  
Cassian settled in, knowing it would be at least an eventful night, as she handed him the rum. 

The first few minutes they spent there in silence. Neither, it seemed, cared that much to speak; he did not feel as though he had to. Her silence, though, had a certain weight to it, like she wanted to speak, but didn’t know how to begin. 

Instead, they shared the bottle of rum, watching Yavin go down over the horizon, until he finally had to ask. 

“How did you get all these?” 

“Traded with a smuggler a few missions back.” 

“Oh?” 

“He needed a part for his ship,” she said, finishing off the bottle. With a smirk, she said, “I acquired it for him.” 

“You stole it?” 

“He gave me a ride out of there, and some booze to make it worth my time. All in all, an interesting end to another interesting mission. He knows he wasn’t getting out of there without my help.” With a flourish, she popped open the next bottle of Corellian rum. “All he wanted to do was brag about that damn ship, though.” 

He took the bottle from her, and she leaned back on her hands, looking up to the stars. “Did it have any special modifications?” 

“Everything. SLAM overdrive. Class 0.5 hyperdrive. Tons of weaponry. She was pretty, I’ll admit that.” 

“Must have been fast.” 

With a sigh, she finally just lay down. “Very fast. Reckless, too. Did the Kessel Run in 12 parsecs.” 

“That’s just irresponsible.” 

She took it with a grin, peering up to the sky. He noticed the look of contentment gracing her face, whether the alcohol was helping or not. 

“How long have you been fighting for the Alliance?” She asked, leaning upwards for a moment to take a drink. 

“A long time.” 

“I find that answer vague and unconvincing,” she said. “Seriously, Cassian.” 

“Almost twenty years.” 

Immediately, she side-glanced at him, almost in disbelief. “Just how old are you?” 

“Twenty-six next month.”  
“Seriously?” she said, drinking from the bottle like it was water. “You… you were six?” It finally hits her. She lowers the bottle, the alcoholic grimace on her face fading to one of distraught concern. He wasn’t sure, but he thought a tear slipped down her cheek. In response, he took the bottle from her hand, grazing her fingertips with hers. 

“What about you?” He asked, eager to turn the conversation away from him. 

“Not that long,” she said into the sky. “Since I was sixteen. Eight years.” 

“Have you worked in intelligence that whole time?” 

“I’m a sneak. I always have been. Tama and I…” she began, but quickly drifted, looking away from him. 

“Will you tell me?” He asked quietly. 

At first, she didn’t look at him. She took a long drink—longer than he would normally advise—from the bottle. After wiping off her lips, she looked down at the ground, far below them, and he thought for a moment she would jump. Instead, he took the bottle from her proffered hand. 

“I was sixteen. Tama was almost eighteen. He decided to join up some of the guerrilla fighters against the Empire. The Partisans. They were all following this Onderonian resistance fighter. Tama was sent on a spying mission to Malpaz. He never came home.” 

He offered her the bottle again. She took another long drink. 

“I decided I would avenge his death. The entire facility there—the Empire research facility—exploded. They said it was an attack. I know it’s not. So that’s my mission. Find the person responsible and kill him.” 

“Do you know who did it?” 

She nodded once. She didn’t say who, she didn’t divulge a name; all she did was take another very long drink from the bottle. “That’s when it became real. When Tama died, my island couldn’t hide anymore. We couldn’t hide from the Empire, descending on our little haven. That’s when I decided to leave. There’s always that… that point of no return, you know? That point when everything you did before stopped mattering and you changed. You become a whole different person. Whether you love or you lose or someone dies. That turning point. That event horizon.” 

“Event horizon?” 

“In black holes. You’ve got the actual stellar black hole—from the center of a collapsed star, right? Once it collapses into a supernova, and explodes, shooting out all the other parts, it becomes a black hole. The event horizon is the area around the black hole that is the ‘point of no return’. When the gravity becomes so great, not even light can escape. You’re within its grasp. You can’t get out. In the end, we’re all going to have to face it. The event horizon.” She sighed, popping open the Whyren’s Reserve. She didn’t drink it at first. She passed it to Cassian. “We’re all dying stars, Cassian. Before long, we’ll all supernova. We’ll become shells of what we were before. Some of us have already started the process.” He took a drink, and then passed it over to her. She just held it in her hands, not looking at him. “And eventually, we’ll hit our event horizons. And then we’ll be gone.” 

With that, she drank. He didn’t interrupt her thoughts. He thought it better not to. They sat in the dark, listening to the wildlife, passing the bottle back and forth until they finished the smooth liquor. As he tried to focus his eyes, he started to think he might be tipsy. Asha barely looked affected. 

“Are you going to try it?” She was asking. 

“Sorry, what?” 

“Are you going to try it? The drink of my people,” she said, popping open the bottle of wine. 

“Are you going to let me off this rock if I don’t?” He asked, leaning back on his elbow. She moved with comm trails; he was just drunk enough to feel it. It felt nice, he thought, to forget about everything for a while. 

“Good point.” She offered the bottle to him, smirking, and he took it warily. 

“This isn’t going to kill me, is it?” 

“Sip it. Trust me.” 

Cassian was just drunk enough and wanted to impress her enough to try it. He could smell the alcohol before he even brought the bottle to his lips. When he tilted it back, it burned. His mouth, his throat, it even burned his nose as he coughed, turning the bottle over to her again. She winked at him, leaned her head back and he watched as she swallowed once, twice, then a third time before putting the bottle back down. 

“It literally tastes like fire,” he said, still feeling it burn his tongue. 

“Why do you think we like it so much? A hint: we think it tastes like fire, too. But not a single one is going to admit that.” 

“You are all insane. Every single Pamarthen.” 

“We revel in it,” she said, leaning down on her arm too. In their closeness, he could smell the alcohol on her breath, and before he realized what he was doing, he slipped the bottle from her hand, sipping from it once more. He tried to sputter less but was mostly unsuccessful. 

“You know we have a briefing tomorrow?” She said, taking the bottle back from him. She swigged it like juice. 

“Yes, I am aware.” 

“Are you sure you want to do this to yourself?” 

“I do not get hungover,” he said, completely uncertain in his statement. “You should be the one in pain. You were drinking before I got here, Asha.” 

Her smile started to fade, and she leaned back until she lay on the hard roof. 

“What is the matter?” He asked. Although she had enough alcohol to fell a wampa, her eyes barely lost focus. Instead, they looked at him wistfully. 

“I… I don’t want to supernova as someone else. You’ve heard them. I’m the only one they have left.” 

Cassian just tried to listen, but he didn’t quite follow her logic. 

“Asha, please—“ 

“Nikara.” 

For a moment, Cassian held his breath, afraid her whisper would get taken by the wind. 

“Nikara Tali,” she whispered once more. When she said it, it sounded like waves crashing on a shore. He could taste the ocean from here. Actually, it was probably the alcohol numbing his tongue, but still, the romanticism was there, and it was palpable. 

“It’s beautiful,” he said, turning from the starry sky to look at her. “Thank you for telling me.” 

“No one knows,” she said. “I’m tired of no one knowing. When I die in this war, I don’t want it to be as A-5HA.” 

“You want to die as yourself,” he said. “I understand that. I understand that more than anybody.” 

“I know,” she said. 

“Nikara Tali,” he murmured, and he could see her shimmering smile from out of the corner of his eye. 

“Your accent makes it sound so exotic,” she said, inching closer to him. 

“I don’t have an accent,” he said, leaning towards her. “You’re the one with the accent.” 

“’You’re the one with the accent,’” she affected, but Cassian knew it sounded nothing like him. Instead, he just touched her cheek, like she did when she was in the med bay, but this time, she leaned into his touch, her cheeks warm and flushed. Her lips, colored by the red Pamarthen wine, tasted like the alcohol: like a supernova. 


	5. Chapter V

**_Yavin_****_ IV_****_ // _****Base One**** // **\- 65 

Cassian attempted to stand at attention in front of Draven, but the haze of alcohol and pain in his head forced him to squint. He declared he would not get a hangover, but at this point, he knew it had been a bold faced lie. 

She, on the other hand, looked perfectly normal—if she could be considered perfectly normal. She barely looked affected by the amount of liquor they had consumed the night before. 

He tried to forget the kiss. It, of course, hung in the air more noticeably than the pain. She should have never told him, but he knew enough about her that she did not regret saying it. 

Nikara. It rolled off the tongue like the waves on a beach. 

Regardless, he should pay attention. Draven appeared irritated already, and he could not add to it. 

“You’re travelling to Wecacoe. You will meet two of our associates there— Kertas and Rismor—to extract Imperial security protocols from a decommissioned Imperial cruiser.” 

“It’s going to take four of us to complete this mission?” She says, the sarcasm slipping into her voice. 

“We have no idea the strength of the security in Wecacoe City,” Draven continues. “At this point, we do not have a choice.” 

Cassian took a quick look at Tali, and she busied herself with checking her pistols. 

He agreed. He had a bad feeling about this. 

* * *

**_Wecacoe_****_ // _****Wecacoe**** City // **\- 62 

“You’re right. I have a bad feeling about this,” Tali said as she disembarked from the small ship onto the arid sand planet. They had some ways to travel before they got to the storage facility, but they would have to find Rismor and Kertas first. 

“What makes you so uneasy?” He said. 

“Too many moving parts. Not enough intel.” 

As they started walking in the right direction, Cassian saw a flicker of light from the top of the nearest sand dune. He recognized the code and directed Tali up the dune, leading them into the company of two purple humanoid aliens. 

“Andor?” One asked. 

“Captain Cassian Andor, and this is—” 

“Specialist Asha Niraj,” she said quickly, barely glancing in his direction. Not an embarrassed correction, just a gentle reminder. He was the only one who could know. 

“Rismor, Kertas,” one said unceremoniously. “We’ve scouted the location—Storage Facility 47. Are you armed?” 

“Armed and ready,” she answered, retrieving her pistol with a flourish. 

Just over the sand dune was the place they had to hit: a clone of so many of the security buildings Cassian had infiltrated since the start of this war. 

“Get through the gate, then the door, and then we can find the protocols in the computer inside,” one of the aliens said. They looked exactly alike, and Cassian was unsure who was who. 

He was about to point out some of the flaws in the egress when Tali slid down the sand bank and to the front gate. Cursing, he followed after her, trying to follow in her exact trail as not to alert any guards of their numbers. 

When she got to the front gate, she started peering at the screen and typing wildly on her datapad. 

“You should not go off on your own like that—” 

“I can get through this. Give me a moment,” she explained, and with a flourish, the door opened. 

“Who is this human?” One of the aliens said. 

Tali waltzed through the gate. Cassian looked up to the camera systems, but none of them had their tell-tale flashing lights. “She’s a slicer,” he explained. 

The door opened at her fingertips, and they were inside. “We just have to find the right terminal,” she explained, her voice at barely a whisper. Cassian looked down each side of the hallway. A guard lurked near the opposite end, but if they slipped to the other side of the warehouse-like building, he would be out of their eyeshot. 

Inside the hangar—for that was what it really was—sat a massive decommissioned Imperial cruiser. It would take weeks, if not months, to search. 

Cassian gestured to the pair and they approached the ship cautiously. 

“What do you think?” Tali asked, her pistol still in her left hand. 

“What do I think? What do I think about what?” Cassian asked, exasperated. 

“Workin’ together,” she explained. “Finally on a mission. You barely spoke for two days on the ship, you know.” 

She opened up the terminal and started searching. The security protocols could be anywhere on the ship, yes, but if anyone were to find it, it was Tali. 

But he remembered the bad feeling that continued to creep around his subconscious. 

“Wait—” 

The alarms started screaming, and Cassian slipped easily into Plan B. This was more of the type of mission he was used to— 

“Go. Run. We need to abandon the mission,” the alien said, gesturing towards the way they came in. Not one to give up so quickly, Cassian knew she was right. This place was too heavily guarded for information that they could easily get from another location, on another planet. 

“Split up,” he said, although Tali looked distraught for a moment. She lost it quickly, sprinting up the loading dock and into the ship. Cursing, he knew what she was doing. She was going to find the information whether they needed to bail or not. 

He started to run, but he heard the familiar sound of a security droid behind him. 

“You do not have the authority to be in this hangar. You are under arrest.” 

Cassian held up his hands and peered over his shoulder. At least it wasn’t a stormtrooper. This time, it was a KX-series security droid. The machine towered over Cassian, clutching a pair of binders in his hands. 

He wouldn’t go easily. The machine itself didn’t feel pain, but he did; regardless, he struggled. The pair of aliens quickly came to his rescue. 

“Find the kill switch!” He hissed through his teeth. The droid quickly powered off. 

Tali appeared, slipping down and out of the destroyer, looking entirely confused. 

“Do you want the entire Imperial army to come down here? What the hell are you doing?”  
He gestured toward the droid. “Can you wipe his memory?” 

Without another word, Tali went to work, her datapad linking easily with the droid. 

“Watch the perimeter,” Cassian ordered, peering at the droid. He was like any other security droid. At least this time, they may be able to use him to their advantage. He himself considered the fact that if they could get his memory wiped, they could take the droid back to base and steal his security codes. 

“Almost to 30 percent,” Tali said. “Give me a—” 

The droid’s metal arm smashed into Tali with enough force to slam her into the ground. Its hands were around Cassian’s throat before he could call out for help—Kertas and Rismor rushed back, switched toggled the switch again, and the squeezing metal hands dropped. 

“Thanks,” he said hoarsely. Tali lay on the ground, possibly unconscious, but he did not have time to deal with her right now, although the worry settled tight in his throat. 

That may have been the bruising. 

He continued her hack on her machine and restarted the memory wiping process. The droid rebooted and restarted, seemingly cycling through a bunch of numbers and letters of protocol. 

“I am K-2SO—” 

“K-2, you’re going to lead us back to our ship,” Cassian said as he went to Tali. She just started to wake up, as she shook her head to clear it. 

“The fuck was that—” 

“The droid, can you stand?” 

She got to her feet, although she wavered; K-2SO was already leaving as she gained her bearings. Cassian decided to take up the rear, although Tali clutched tightly to her pistol. 

“Put that away,” he said quietly. “He’s escorting us as prisoners.” 

She did as she was told for once, still wavering as she walked. With a touch to her shoulder, he saw her hand draw away blood. She just wiped it on her pant leg. 

As soon as they approached their vehicle, though, the familiar white armor of Stormtroopers became evident in the sandy wind. 

“Where are you going? All security detail is gathering at Storage Facility 47.” 

K-2SO seemingly glared at the Stormtrooper, then turned to Cassian once more. 

There was no way he would submit to the binders, so he dropped, slipping over the edge of the sandbank as the lasers started firing. 

“Rismor! Draw the troops!” Kertas yelled. The other alien started running, drawing away at least two thirds as she shot. Tali grasped the device from Cassian, looking over it as a plume of heat ravaged them. 

The ship—their ship—exploded in a fiery ball. 

“Looks like we’re not getting out of here that way,” Tali said. “He still has 8.3 percent of his memory—” 

“Can you remove the base layer?” 

“I’m… I’m trying—” she muttered, typing on the small screen. Within moments, the droid completely shut down. 

“What did you do?” He cried. 

“Give it a second—” 

He completely rebooted and started shooting. Cassian let out his pent up breath and instead focused on finding another ship—the Imperial hangar sat nestled in the sand not far away. With the soldiers drawn here, or the storage facility, it had to be unprotected. 

“Go! Take the droid!” Kertas yelled. “He’ll have the intel we need! We will cover your exit!”  
The last Stormtrooper fell, but regardless, he started to run towards the open air hangar. The droid followed quickly, and he only hoped the other footfalls far behind was Nikara. 

He looked over his shoulder, and she moved far behind. Whatever the droid had done to her, it shook her almost as badly as Naboo did. She just had to shake it, he thought, but hadn’t been given the chance. 

The closest ship he could find was a slightly damaged medical transport ship, but it worked well enough for their use. By the time he had started the takeoff protocols, Tali had finally made it to the ship and was barely in the seat long enough to calculate the jump to lightspeed. 

“Are you alright?” Cassian finally found himself asking as the stars around them shifted to lines. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t usually choke back there. I just… I hit my head so hard, I don’t know what happened.” 

He leaned over to her, grasping her chin and tilting her head towards him. A cut slashed across her forehead, and part of her shirt had been ripped. 

“I hit part of the cruiser. I don’t know,” she grumbles. Without another word, she headed back into the bay. The droid stood awkwardly watching until she nearly kicked its off switch. “It’s a good thing you stole a medical ship.” 

“Always thinking ahead,” he muttered, gesturing towards one of the beds. She slipped into it, sighing, before releasing her bracers and slipping off her shirt. She peered at the two meter tall droid with an emotion he did not usually see when someone looked at an Imperial droid: she almost admired it, with a careful squint. 

“What do you intend to do with it?” He asked, cleaning the cut with bacta spray. Good thing this was a freighter smuggling medical supplies. His trips with Nikara only seemed to require it. 

“They wanted the security protocols. We took the security protocols,” she said, leaning back onto the bed. At least she could lie down, fairly comfortable. 

“What is with you taking everything you see?” 

“Do you think it will help the Alliance?” She retorted, watching him start to stitch shut the long, jagged cut across her shoulder and chest. Her chest flushed as he worked. He tried to ignore it. 

“Point taken,” he said, focusing on clean, even stitches through her skin. She barely even cringed. 

“I’d have to say, you’re pretty good at those,” she said, readjusting a little in her seat. He knew it didn’t feel the best, but she put on a brave face. For him, a little voice in the back of his head said, but he decided again to ignore it. 

But the silence just gave them time to think, and he didn’t want any more time to think. Time to think only led to things he might regret. Maybe not now, but in the future, when the things he couldn’t change would sour the things he could. 

Nikara didn’t seem to think that way. Instead, he watched her expression change from her usual hardened look to that one he’s seen before, the one on the ship to Yavin and the one on the tower as they drank and the one when he fixed her hand on the landing pad. He knew her well enough now to know that was the expression of a woman who felt cared for, for the first time, in a long time. 

“The other night. On Yavin IV. Do you regret it?” 

He didn’t answer. He finished stitching her up, then adhered a length of bandage over it to protect it. She sat up, rolling her shoulder. But inside, Cassian fought with himself on a response. Because he didn’t regret it, but he didn’t want to. 

Instead, he cleaned the small cut on her head and slipped a small bandage over it. She smiled, still waiting for a response that he was unwilling to give. 

He just went to wash his hands, and she waited, peering at him expectantly when he came back. At first, he thought to pretend like he didn’t hear it, and nearly set back towards the cockpit to remove himself from the situation. But he knew he owed her a response. He owed himself a response. 

But the words wouldn’t come. Frustrated, he tried to clean up the medical supplies, put them back in the kit, but Nikara just stared at him expectantly. 

“Cassian,” she murmured. It wasn’t a scolding tone. It was one of understanding, of fear, of exhaustion, of wanting something when they both knew nothing good would come of it. When he finally looked at her, the expression of hope started to fade. His heart jumped, in a panic, knowing immediately he didn’t want it to fade away. 

He touched his hand to her face, and her face bloomed. As her lips parted, in disbelief, in hope, in fear, he pulled her into him, and her hand found its way behind his neck, pulling him to her. She drew a sharp breath when he finally broke the kiss, his face breath-lengths from hers. Cassian almost surprised himself, his behavior shifting to emotional like that. But with the trip back to Yavin IV taking two days, he thought, for a moment, they could use the clarity. They were owed that, at least. 

Yes, they were owed that. 

She seemed to have the same thought process: all thoughts of pretense seemed to fade away as she kicked off her boots and reached for his shirt, unfastening it slowly. It scared him a little. Nikara—in the time he knew her—was not one to do things slowly. But, he thought, she was one to do things right. So, he let her. With her grip on his shirt, she pulled him towards her, until he finally straddled her on the bed. He let her pull his shirt apart, and off, and onto the floor. 

For him, she acted slowly, but on herself, she moved fast. Almost too fast, Cassian thought, pulling off her undershirt and tossing it down, exposing herself even more than she had been before. The blush cascaded down her chest as he rested his hands on either side of her shoulders; he let his fingers trace from her shoulder to collarbone, then to her neck, until he touched her jaw, guiding her up to his mouth. He kissed her until she gasped, until when he pulled away, she looked at him like the only thing left for her were his lips on hers. 

He recovered faster than her. Like he moved without thinking—for wasn’t that what he wanted? A time without thinking, as time to think only led to regret—he unbuckled her belt, her thigh holster, and then her pants. Knowing he would have to climb off of her to finish the job, he started to, but she linked her fingers into his belt, drawing him back to her. He had to kiss her. He had to, as he focused on not wanting regret; Cassian knew he had to throw those invasive thoughts away if he were to get anywhere further. 

“I need to get off to take my pants off, Nikara,” he murmured, as she refused to let go. Instead, she tried to kiss him again, but he kept pushing away until he knelt, her hands still on his belt. 

Instead of responding, she sat up, unbuckling his belt and thigh holster as he had for her. The difference remained, though, that she maintained riveting eye contact as she did. As soon as she pushed away the belt, she unfastened his pants, then finally let him go. 

He stood, kicking off his boots, then disrobing completely. She drew a sharp, cool breath when he did, leaning up on her elbows. 

He didn’t wait for the comment. Instead, he gently pulled off her pants, pushing it and her undergarments off in one go, before joining her once more. She let her eyes drift from his mouth to his toes, then back again, like she was trying to memorize him for later. His mouth met hers once more, their hands meeting over her head, until he felt her body arching towards his. The heat of her skin shocked him; the coolness of his made her feel like fire. 

The fire burned searing hot, he thought, and only grew as he traced his fingertips down her neck, her necklace, her collarbone, the center of her chest. She let out a whimper, barely audible, when his palm closed over her breast, his fingers tracing over the skin, only causing her to breathe harder, like all she ever wanted was this and everything he did was new. 

He let his lips follow the trail his fingers blazed, all the way to where they had just been; he took the peak in his mouth, running his lips over her, his tongue around her, the edge of his teeth through her. She writhed, and just when he felt she had had enough, he shifted to the other, sliding his hands around her back, holding her in place. She rested her hands in his hair, finally finding a place for them, as he kissed her; he felt himself, hard and risen and ready. At the next whimpering moan that came from her mouth, he traveled back to her, back to the place he started, and leaned his hands near her shoulders. Bits of her hair splayed out, fallen from her braid, giving her a halo of midnight black, almost blue. As he looked at her, breath-lengths away again, her hand closed around him, delicate, soft. He drew a heavy breath, closing his eyes, as she guided him into her, slowly, carefully. 

She was not one to do things slowly. But she was one to do things right. And so would he. 

He began unhurriedly, a gentle pace, a deep pace. With each thrust, she drew her breath, watching him as he watched her. He didn’t kiss her, not at first; she just clutched onto him as he clutched to her, moving together until Cassian didn’t remember a time before this. He didn’t want to remember a time before this. 

She finally broke their locked eyes, their synced breaths, by leaning up and kissing him. Like something snapped in him, he pushed back, grasping her hands, clasping his fingers in hers, pushing them against the mat over her head. She almost fought back, almost fought to lean up to kiss him, but he forced her down, kissing her lightly, kissing her between her growing moans. 

In retaliation, it seems, she lifted her legs and hooked them around his back, pushing him even deeper into her. He let one of her hands go, and it immediately sunk into the fleshy skin of his shoulder; his hand found her jaw again and guided her back for another kiss. Eyes grazing her body, he saw the number of scars she spoke about before, and the new one, still bandaged on her shoulder. It was as if the cracks in her body let the light shine through. 

He remembered her lesson, as explained on the tower on Yavin: we were all dying stars, we were all going to supernova. Whether it be small or large, there was always that point of no return—that event horizon. 

With the sinking of her fingers into his back, and his own heavy breaths creating dissonance with hers, he hoped that, just for a short time, they could shine together, a pair of dwarf stars, of binary stars, appearing as a single point of light, before their event horizon. 

“Nikara,” He said, expecting to speak more, but she cut him off with a laugh. 

“Say it again.” 

He repeated her name, he whispered it, and as he felt her start to throb around him, he said it louder. Her chest flushed, and she shut her eyes tight as she writhed under him. He tried to breathe, he tried to hold off; she breathed his name and he was undone. He was undone and then she was undone, and then it was quiet. 

They held on to each other, tightly, shaking. He pushed away the pieces of hair that had fallen over her sweat-glistened face, unable to look at anywhere but her. For once, he thought, she didn’t speak. 

They had two days before they made it back to Yavin, he thought. And they would make the best of it. 


	6. Chapter VI

**_Yavin_****_ IV_****_ // _****Base One**** // **\- 57 

Several days passed since the last time he saw Tali. She had busied herself with whatever tasks Draven or Mon Mothma had given her; when he finally found her in the massive hangar at Base One, she sat on top of a metal crate, her legs tucked underneath her as she typed madly on a handheld screen. 

“You’re still playing with that thing?” 

She jumped, although Cassian didn’t intend on startling her; when she realized it was him, though, she settled back into her seat. 

“Yeah. I got the protocols off of it, but he’s a little too much fun.” 

“It’s an Imperial droid. What else can you do with it?” 

She giggled. She actually giggled, and she didn’t try to hide it, Cassian realized. “I’m giving him a little bit of free will. He’s got a funny personality.” 

“Funny… personality?” He shook his head. “We have to head out. We’re going on a mission to Mustafar. Your droid may be of use to us.” 

“What are we doing?” She said, setting down her device. “Anything fun and exciting?” 

“We need to infiltrate a facility. I’m thinking we go in as Stormtroopers.” 

“What are we looking for?” 

“Imperial intelligence. We have four days to get there, I can brief you on the way,” Cassian explained. Offhandedly, he turned to the currently silent droid. “You wanna come with us?” 

“He has to come with us,” Tali snapped. 

The droid looked from her to Cassian and back to Tali again. 

“Asha said I had to.”

* * *

**_Somewhere along the _****_Corellian_****_ Trade Spine _****_headed to _****_Bespin_****_ // _****YT-2400 freighter****// **\- 41 

“You’re reckless,” Cassian found himself saying for the third time in the last day. After that last mission, he started to fear for Tali’s safety. She moved too quickly, without warning, without any cause or telegraphing her movements. He couldn’t predict her. Maybe that was a good thing, but so far, he thought it was bad. 

“Oh, stop it. We’re fine, aren’t we? We just need to find a way to get into this fancy dress party on Bespin. Kaytoo, you’re saying this guy on Bespin has administrative access to the information we need?” 

“General Armande Drackon is staying on site in Cloud City,” the droid said. 

“General? We need to get terminal access from a General?” 

“What can you tell us about this guy?” Tali asked. Her lips barely upturn. 

“He likes to gamble and waste his money on women,” the droid deadpanned. “I believe, Tali, you already have a plan, don’t you?” 

“I do.” 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“Stop being picky, she looks to be about your size,” Cassian said, gesturing with his head towards another prostitute lurking through the seedy level. 

“This is a delicate operation,” Tali said, glaring at him in the alleyway. She pulled her cloak further around her, just seemingly for safety, but soon Cassian saw her produce a long, serrated knife. 

“What the hell are you doing—” 

“I’m gonna get my dress, what do you think I’m doing?” 

“Can we not murder any prostitutes today?” 

Her blank face frightened him. For the first time, she really frightened him; he nearly had to remind her that killing a woman was not conducive to the mission. 

“You didn’t come to me for my reputation as a pleasant person,” she snapped, but looked back to the girl anyway. “Fine, just grab her and, I don’t know, chokeslam her before she can scream.” 

“Now I can do that.” 

The girl was unconscious in the dark alleyway before she could make a noise. Cassian stood watch as Tali went through the tedious process of stealing the woman’s revealing dress; when she was finally done, she tossed a bag of her own clothes at Cassian to carry and dropped her own coat around the now naked girl. For good measure, she dropped a pile of credits at her feet. 

“You know that was more than this outfit was worth,” she snapped, adjusting the clasp at her neck. Cassian looked her over: although the dress was definitely for a working girl, she wore it well. She cringed a little, fighting in the silver metal corset, and the cerulean blue skirt cut away to show more of her legs than she probably would have hoped. The corset looped up to her neck, hooking in a halter top of thin metal. 

“I feel like a slave girl.” 

“You look…” 

“Say it, Cassian.” 

Again, a surprising tone: one of harshness, of ferocity. The slight smirk on her face alerted him to what was really happening: she was enjoying this. 

She wrapped what was once the girl’s cloak, a bright cerulean blue to match her dress, and indicated it was time to head up the hundred or so levels to accost the Imperial Intelligence General. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - 

She took entirely too long. He waited in the hallway of the hotel, hoping she would arrive soon with their prey. Of course, she had to seduce him, and get him to invite her up, but at this point, he felt like the dead weight in this mission. 

Nikara was pulling all of the weight, and he hoped she wouldn’t have to go too far. Unsurprisingly, though, he knew she would if she had to. 

Her loyalty to the cause knew no bounds. 

But the lift dinged and he heard her melodic laugh, leading the General back to his temporary home during his bout of debauchery. When he unlocked the door with his thumbprint, the two snuck in; Cassian became the silent third as he slipped in and turned immediately right, crouching in the side room. 

She sounded much more vacant than she really was as she gently spoke to the man. He couldn’t see this General, but he could hear from his timbre he was an older man, one who was handed much in his life. He assumed that last part from the way he instructed Nikara to the bedroom. 

She complied. 

Cassian knew it was best if he didn’t see this part. Why did the anger rise in his cheeks? He fought away the thought. 

As soon as she shut the door, leaving it open just a crack, he jumped into position. The man’s personal terminal sat on the table in the center of the sitting area, and he immediately plugged in the encryption key Nikara had given him. It would take some time to break through the first few levels of encryption, but eventually, he would need her and they would need some of the information in the General’s brain. 

He sat impatiently, listening to the sounds coming from the bedroom. They filled him with an unfamiliar rage. It became something… carnal, his want to protect her; although she could take care of herself, Cassian didn’t want her to have to follow through on this mission if she didn’t have to. 

With a tentative kick, he eased the door open. By the time Cassian saw her, Nikara had arranged herself in a compromising position, her partner, even more so. She didn’t appear as though it bothered her. She seemed to even enjoy it a little. 

The Imperial officer splayed out against his headboard, his wrists secured to the bed frame with binders, now shirtless. The dress she had stolen seemed to be created for such activities, as she had removed the skirt’s several panels, leaving her in her silver corset top and nothing else. Her hair swung wild as she straddled the Imperial officer, taking one of the panels and wrapping it around the man’s eyes. He let out a giggle, a sick giggle, one that made Cassian cringe. 

She didn’t even look over to him as he watched. He didn’t even know if she saw him watching. Nikara worked like a method actor, putting everything into her performance, no matter who was watching. 

Without another thought, she unfastened the man’s belt and pants and slowly, agonizingly, drew them down over his thighs, past his knees, to his ankles. She leaned forward, kissing him on the neck, on the cheek, before whispering something in his ear. Leaving him completely naked on his bed yet ready for her, she left, approaching Cassian once again after shutting the door. 

“Did you get in?” She asked, her attitude immediately changing. He turned the datapad towards her, and she started to type. Whatever information the General divulged, it provided enough information to Tali to slip past his last few layers of protection. Cassian momentarily felt useless, as she both had to distract the fat Imperial and hack his files. 

“Wonderful,” she whispered under her breath, typing fast enough and plugging in her own information stick to copy everything. “Now for the best part.” 

He had hoped, at least, he could help her in extinguishing the man, but it appeared she had an idea of her own: out of the bag Cassian had brought with them, she pulled out an old-fashioned garrote. In fact, she looked entirely too pleased as she slipped back into the room and climbed up on the bed. 

With a gentle touch between his legs, she swept her hand over him, surprising him, and he rose even more. She let out another laugh. This one, not like the ones before: this was a dark chuckle. 

She straddled him, easily slipped the wire around his neck, and he started to fight. She moved the tightly tied blindfold off the man, and instead used it to gag his mouth. The noise he had begun to make quickly silenced. 

His already dead eyes just managed to frantically look about the room. He tried to thrash her off, and Cassian moved to help her; instead, she stopped straddling the man, pulled the serrated knife from somewhere in her metal corset, and held it against his penis. 

He immediately stopped thrashing. The sick bastard, Cassian thought, as she kept tightening. Unconsciousness in 30 seconds. Death in 5 minutes. Her face broken into a wide smile when he stopped moving. She twisted the garrote several more times and tied it off; after careful consideration, it seemed, she reared back with her knife. Although he had seen much worse, Cassian turned around, not willing to see the maiming she had achieved. 

She slipped out of the bedroom with her pairs of binders, typed on the terminal, removed the copy and grasped the cloak, spinning it over her shoulders. 

“It's a tragedy he won't survive the strangulation," she murmured. "I would have liked to have seen his face when he woke up."

Cassian couldn’t even respond as they retreated back to their ship. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“You’re mad,” Nikara says matter-of-factly about forty-five minutes into the trip back to Yavin. “You’re mad. Which part did you not like? The part where I most likely killed a high-ranking Imperial officer, or when I about killed that whore in Port Town?” 

“What is wrong with you?” He finally let out. The question, although vague, was all he could consider at this point. “Yes! I have issue with what you almost did or what you tried to do—” 

She licked her lips. “So what if I’m a little reckless? It gets the job done.” 

“Not at the expense of your own life?” 

“Are you jealous?” She finally asked. He circled her. She had already removed her cloak but had yet to put on her own clothes: she remained only in the silver metal corset, grasping the two pairs of binders she had used on the officer. Cassian tried not to admit to himself it did make things more distracting. “Are you jealous of him? Did you want to protect me?” 

She closed the distance between them, touching Cassian’s cheek. He pulled her away, not harsh, but not soft; she didn’t take the hint and instead brushed her lips against his. He couldn’t help but kiss her back, at least until he could break himself away. 

“Stop it. I know you don’t need protecting. I think you’re high on… on the violence. You like it, don’t you?” 

“I never said I had to dislike what I do. Come on, Cassian,” she purred, touching his hands, putting them one by one on her waist. “You can’t tell me you don’t enjoy it a little.” 

Cassian threw her against the wall, and she barely let out a sound; even in his anger and his haste, and his yearning, he could see the color rising in her cheeks. But he knew she didn’t care. She had one goal in all this, and she would achieve it at all costs. 

He managed to get one side of the binders on her left wrist, and there would be no way she could get it off herself. As soon as he slammed her against the wall, he pressed his body up against hers, making sure she couldn’t move. 

She fought. She fought against him, against his mouth, but she lost both battles. With a swift movement, he clipped the other end of the binder to a sturdy part of the wall at her hip level. 

Nikara just growled. Cassian didn’t know whether it was in frustration or pleasure. He would soon find out, he assumed, as he retrieved his other set of binders. 

But she didn’t say anything. She gave him a smirk, like this had been her plan all along. 

“Are you really going to restrain me? I’m so much more fun when I’m not.” 

“You are being too manic. I’m going to let you cool down first.” 

“What, and not take advantage of the moment?” She said, biting her lip. “We’ve had plenty of fun, you and I. I didn’t get what I wanted earlier. Why don’t you give it to me?” 

He leaned closer to her, and he could see in her eyes she wanted to fight. The tame disappeared and gave way to the wild, the bloodthirsty, the animal. He saw it flash in her eyes before she even moved. 

As she tried to pull him into her, he grasped her wrist; he easily snapped the binder over it and snapped the other end to part of the wall, this time, above her head. She stood there, restrained, as Cassian stepped back to survey his work. 

He knew where it would end. It was the journey, he thought, that made it fun. Like her, he would have to give into the madness. The trip back to Yavin was too long. 

“Were you jealous?” She asked in a loud voice. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Were you jealous of that man I killed? You never answered me,” She said. Her voice took on a different quality. More singsong, more seductive. It was her work voice, he realized. The voice she used on a mark. Instead of answering, he approached her. 

“Calm. Down.” 

“No. You should never tell a lady to calm down.” 

He chuckled. “You? A lady?” 

“By name, at least. Hey. You can’t say you’re not attracted to me right now.” 

She was right. He couldn’t. He couldn’t say that, because she was right. He took a step towards her, knowing deep in the back of his mind he was just playing into her hand, but the look on her face just proved him right. He needed her just as much as she needed him. Besides, they had three and a half days back to Yavin. He couldn’t leave her like this, and she would never surrender. 

Cassian felt the hunger in the back of his throat. The animalistic rage she clung to so heavily clawed to get out, and she knew it. 

He took another step towards her, and she nearly purred. He slipped his hand around her corset, the metal still biting into her skin. When he released the clasps and pulled it off, he could still see the red marks pressed into her tanned skin. 

With another gentle push, he slipped the silver underwear off her thighs until they dropped to the floor, leaving her naked and restrained. He dared to look up to her, kicking the items away, and the dark smirk returned, as if she were waiting for him to slip too. 

The words came out of his mouth before he could even consider them. 

“I’m going to take you like he should have taken you.” 

Nikara took a deep, gasping breath, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. He kissed her anywhere but her mouth. He kissed her neck, her shoulders. He kept his hands on her hips, and she could do nothing to fight against him. He knew she didn’t want to fight him. Just a little. 

She wrestled with her bonds when his mouth wrapped around her nipple. Hard and supple, he ran his teeth over it and she drew a sharp breath. His hands slipped from her hips to the small of her back, and her head tilted back, exposing her chest even more. He shifted sides and her fighting nearly stopped, like she finally gave in. Even in the midst of her bloodlust, her gentle breaths added a softness to her that he knew if she knew she had, she would stop all together. 

It broke as soon as she spoke. 

“Does this make you feel powerful?” She tried. He watched her as she watched him run his mouth down her naked chest and stomach. 

“Does this make you feel powerful?” He said, dropping to his knees in front of her. She didn’t answer. He pushed her thighs apart, then kept a strong hand against her stomach, forcing her against the wall. Cassian watched her, he didn’t take her eyes off her, as he ran his hand between her legs, gently, softly, barely. Her pursed lips parted with a heavy breath. 

She gasped, whether she wanted to or not, when he slipped a finger inside her. He started slowly, shifting against her, in her, watching her as he did. Her face barely moved. They maintained eye contact, like whoever broke the gaze first was the loser. But there were no losers here, Cassian recalled with a smirk. 

He slipped out his finger, wet and slick from her, then added another. She shifted her weight that time, leaning back more onto the wall. He considered it a good move. It would only get worse. 

Cassian leaned closer to her, kissing her stomach, her hip bones. She tried to buck him off, but he held her in place. She stopped fighting all together when he ran his tongue over her. She thought she could fight him. 

“There’s… there’s no one else on this ship,” she tried, her legs already shaking. “It doesn’t matter how loud we get.” 

“I know,” he said, barely drawing from her. He knew he could get her to scream. He wanted to get her to scream. The man they killed would never have gotten her to scream, let alone moan like she was doing. 

She had wrapped the binder chains around her hands, and although she grasped tightly enough to turn her hands white, he figured she needed the extra handhold as he added a third finger. Her knees almost buckled. 

By now, she had lost all sense of propriety. She had succumbed, chained to the wall, naked, and enjoying every moment of it. Somewhere in her sick, twisted mind, he knew he had found some sort of fantasy of hers, and even after what they had done, she still yearned for completion. 

And he would give her completion. 

Searching for his own handhold, he decided to trace his hand higher until it landed on her breast. With that, with his fingers shifting inside her and his tongue running circles around her and his hand kneading her and twisting her all at once, she finally lost herself in it, crying out, moaning, gasping for air. And she hadn’t even made it to the end yet. 

He drew his mouth away, continuing his work in other fronts. 

“No—don’t, go—go back—” 

“I want you to say it. I want you to scream it when you come.” 

“Cassian, please—" 

“Do it.” 

The binders creaked, and she shook, and her knees shook, and he had to hold her with his only free hand against the wall. She did as she was told: she came screaming his name. 

When he drew away from her, she nearly hung, naked, sweaty, and legs open, growling for more. Cassian finally approached her and unlatched the binders. Her wrists, scraped and bruised, barely fazed her. As soon as she was free, she grabbed his collar and pulled his mouth to hers, forcing herself on him until they couldn’t breathe. 

She discarded his belt, and unhooked his pants before he realized it. With an indelicate push, his pants fell around his ankles, and she pressed her body against his. Hard, ready, and willing, she turned around, hands against the wall. 

Cassian pulled her hips down far enough so he could enter her from behind. Not even bothering to pull off his shirt, his first thrust was enough to make her splay her hands against the wall. 

He flattened himself against her, hands against the wall, above hers. He pinned her in, fucking her as hard as he could. It’s what they wanted in the first place. It’s what he wanted to do to her after they murdered that man. When their blood ran cold, then hot again. 

She leaned into him, their skin hot, sweat running, between them. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, and he kissed her hard. Slipping his hands off the cold metal wall, they found her body again, again, like fire. And again, his hand found her center, and she was crying out once again. With each touch, she moaned, gasped; until, like she found her own clarity, she drew his hand away. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, his once harsh voice fading. 

Quietly, forcing him to stop, she drew from him and she turned back around. Her mood changed. Her attitude wavered. With one leg, she balanced, and with the other, she hooked him around his waist. She took him in her hand and pushed him inside her once more before lifting her other leg up, suspending her against the wall. 

This changed things, Cassian thought. This made the proceedings a little more romantic than he had intended. This was supposed to be quick, and loud, and then they were moving on. 

But that didn’t seem to be on Nikara’s mind anymore. She pushed down his shirt, and he managed to get it off without dropping her; she sunk her nails into his back as he grasped her hips and fucked her, slowly, deeper, once more. 

“What changed?” He asked, her body still pressed against his, riding him, glistening amidst the grey and black metal around them. 

“I did,” she said cryptically. “I changed.” 

Fingers sunk into his skin, she clutched to him for dear life. Instead of screaming his name this time, she whispered it in his ear. 


	7. Chapter VII

**_Yavin_****_ IV_****_ // _****Base One**** // **\- 27 

As Yavin IV slipped into the rainy season, it got colder and the Rebellion grew weaker. Although the missions he ran and those that Tali ran were more and more successful, it continued to feel like a losing battle. 

The intel they had taken from Cloud City proved to be hard to crack. Nikara tried as hard as she could to slice through the encryption, but the information they continued to hunt seemed more and more elusive, and they knew it. 

Cassian could see her deep blue, almost black cloak off at a distance. She sat near one of the freshwater lakes that had recently sprung up not far from their base. As he walked towards her, he noticed she sat on a rock, jutting out over the water as it suffered, disturbed greatly by the pouring rain. 

He pulled his hood over his head and continued the journey to Nikara. Even when he sat down beside her, she didn’t make a noise. 

Eventually, though, he knew she couldn’t stand it anymore. 

“How was your mission with Kaytoo?” 

“Uneventful.” 

“That’s good. I mean, I’d rather have something eventful, but at least you came back in one piece.” 

“How are you?” Cassian asked. She seemed to bristle a little. 

“I can’t get through the Imperial firewalls. It’s like they’re taunting me. They’ve gotten so much better since the last intel I stole. I just know if I don’t crack it… well, we’re sitting ducks.” 

“How much have you gotten through?” 

“Not much. It’s written in code. Unless we can find a way to break the code, I don’t know if it will be much use to us.” 

“I’m heading out again with Kaytoo,” Cassian said. “I don’t know how long we’ll be. It just depends on how long you need to crack the code.” 

“I’m trying,” she seemed to confess. “You’ve got to understand that I’m trying.” 

“I know you are,” he said. The softness of his statement seemed to float away into the rain. It’s loud. It’s not quiet, like the rains he would have expected. No, this is one step away from a thunderstorm, but twice as powerful, like buckets of water just unleashing from above. 

It didn’t bother Nikara. Even in their cloaks, he knew they both would be soaked, but she didn’t seem to care. Trying to find a sense of clarity proved to be more important right now. 

“I’m sorry about Cloud City.” 

“Why are you apologizing?” 

“My behavior was uncalled for.” 

Cassian sighed. He dare not agree with her statement, but he felt the same. They still hadn’t talked about it, nor had they been on another mission together since. It continued to feel like a sharp, heavy thundercloud over their heads, like the grey sky above. 

“I got too involved. I just… I felt invincible. You didn’t need to experience that side of me.” 

“We made good use of that side of you,” he said, chuckling a little. 

“Maybe. But it was ugly. And it was frightening, and I won’t let it happen again.” 

Cassian nodded. “Alright. Maybe only certain parts could be allowed to happen again.” 

“…noted.” 

She cracked a smile, and it was like the light peeked through the clouds. They sat there, in as much silence as the edge of the base could be, until she drew another sharp breath. 

“If you could pick… how would you want to die?” 

He let her question sink to the bottom of the lake before he could answer. As soon as the words came from his mouth, he knew he was lying. 

“In battle. In service of the Rebellion.” 

Silence, until she let out a harrumph. 

“You’re lying. I can see right through you.” 

“I’m not lying. I’m just a realist.” 

“A pessimist in denial,” she recalled, letting out a chuckle this time. “That’s how you expect to die. I’m asking how you would want to die.” 

“At 90, in my sleep, with my wife by my side.” 

“That’s a sweet notion.” 

“It’s an impossible notion,” he responded. “Just because I’m prepared to die doesn’t mean that I want to.” 

“Ain’t that the truth?” Nikara mused. 

“What about you?” 

“My hope? Kneeling on the beach, letting the water hit my knees until I face oblivion. In truth? I’ll only be satisfied with death if I’ve done everything I can for the rebellion. Only then can I face death without shame.” 

“What about your mission?” He brought it up lightly. They had talked about it before, in greater detail, on one of their trips home. But he knew better than to reference her vendetta completely. They both knew of what he spoke. 

“I’ll get there. Someday. If not…” She drifted. “Can you… can you promise me something?” 

“Anything.” 

“If I die before… before,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him. He could feel his heart breaking, as she fiddled with her pearl necklace. “If I die before I can finish it, I’m asking you. I’m begging you. Find a way. And if you can’t…” She took off her pearl necklace. “I’m leaving this in my quarters. If I’m gone, drop it into the nearest ocean. I’ll know.” 

“Nikara…” 

“Please. Promise me.” 

“I promise,” he said without thinking. He had to. He wouldn’t dream of telling her no. “I promise I’ll find a way or die trying.” 

“I don’t want you to die trying,” she said. “I just want you to try.” 

Cassian forced a smile. “What is all this, trying and hope and making plans?”  
“Come now, Cassian,” she whispered. “Rebellions are built on hope.” 

He kissed her in the rain, the drops mixing with her warm tears. 

* * *

**_Yavin_****_ IV_****_ // _****Base One**** // **\- 4 

She pulled the cloak closer around her as she walked, and Cassian spied her from across the way, the fabric billowing a little. Nikara looked over her shoulder, apparently wanting to be far, far away from spying eyes. Cassian lay in wait. He had found a perfect spot and fully intended to take advantage of it. He knew she knew something he didn’t, and he intended on finding out—the best way he knew how to manipulate her. 

As she started to walk past, he reached out, grasped her wrist, and spun her into the dark alcove. When she drew breath to yell, he put his hand over her mouth, effectively pinning her against the wall. 

When she saw it was him, though, he let go of her mouth, yet left her other hand pinned. She tried to fight against him, but his grip was too strong. 

“What do you think you’re doing—“ She started, but he cut her off with his lips against hers. When he broke the kiss, and ran his lips down her chin and her neck, she grasped her fingers into his hair, gasping. 

“Cassian, we’re in public,“ She said through her clenched teeth. She pulled her cloak around the two of them, but Cassian didn’t pay attention. In fact, she didn’t seem to care as he unlatched her belt. She just looked back over her shoulder—with the cargo containers stacked, she couldn’t see, so, in turn, no one could see her—but while she didn’t pay attention, he slipped his hand under her waistband. She gasped, unprepared, and let his hand shift against her. 

“Dammit, Cassian,” she said, pulling her cloak tighter around them both, as to hide what he was doing. He kissed her again, and she drew him closer, beckoning for him to kiss her once more. 

“Have you heard anything about our next mission?” He asked, watching as she tried to maintain some sense of decorum. 

“If this is… if this is an interrogation tactic, I swear, Cassian,” she whispered, closing her eyes hard. He slipped his hand down further, shifting just enough so he could glide a finger inside her. The standoff began: he stood just out of her mouth’s reach, watching her writhe, try to fight back. 

“I’m not impressed,” she gasped, then bit back her lip. She sounded as though she was going to say something further, but had cut herself off. Cassian just slipped another finger inside her, and she tried to regulate her breathing. 

“Not impressed about what?” 

“I’m not impressed you can do this one handed, you know,” she said quickly. 

“You never answered my question.” 

“Oh, you asshole—_oh,” _she snapped, then snapped her mouth shut. Her last syllable came out louder than she expected, he thought. Still, he couldn’t hide the smirk from appearing on his lips. “You know, this is better than the usual interrogation tactics I’m subjected to. Those IT-O droids are awful. The drugs aren’t even fun.” She grasped tighter to the fabric in her hand, parts of her cloak and his jacket. “Skirtopanol is the worst. Lotiramine, the antidote, can kill you just as bad as the drug can.” 

“Less small talk. More information.” 

“Bavo Six, wyew, that was a truth serum,” she tried, her breath growing heavier. “Paranoia, hallucinations, fear of… well, everything. Gods, it was awful.” 

He couldn’t resist himself. “How many times have you been locked up?” 

“Me?” she tried to count, looking up to the low roof of the temple, but she just managed to close her eyes and let out another moan. At least she had the sense to use her cloak to shield them, but her fingers sunk deep into his shoulders. 

“Having trouble counting?” 

“At least twelve.” 

“What?!” 

“I always escape. Or someone finds me,” she said, gasping for air. “Cassian—“ 

“Yes?” 

“We’re going to get caught here,” she said, lazily eyeing the open space out to the landing hangar. 

“Then tell me what I need to know,” he said, guiding her face back to his. 

“Have you?” 

“Have I what?” 

“Have you… ever been locked up?”  
“I have never been,” he said, letting a little pride slip into his voice. 

“Good for you,” she said, a shudder coursing through her body. He didn’t know if it was from him or from the memory. At her silence, he expected it was from the memory, but she eased into him, hoping to forget. 

He kissed her gently on the neck, hoping to force any of the memories away, and she hummed in contentment before letting another breathy moan escape. 

“You’re getting louder,” he said, surprised she had lasted this long. In keeping the information hidden, he corrected. 

“I’ve stopped caring.” 

“Then tell me.” 

“Why are you so concerned about not knowing?”  
“I do not like being in the dark.” 

“Maybe they’ll call you in. Maybe they’ll call us both in.” 

“I hope they do.” He hoped they called them in soon after their tryst, so he could enjoy the flush of her cheeks and the lustful side glances she would inevitably give him. 

He had one more card to pull, though, and then he would have to get her to share her information in another way. He kissed her, he kissed her hard, urging her mouth open and not giving her room to breathe. When he looked at her exposed skin on her chest, he saw how flushed she was, and knew he was close to getting at least one of the things he wanted. 

Leaning over and whispering in her ear, he said, “Imagine what I could do if you let me use my mouth.” 

“Cassian!” She hissed through her teeth. 

But then they heard her name, and this time, they both froze. The vaguely metallic voice spoke from several meters away, calling her name a second time. 

“K-2SO, I’ll meet you at the ship,” Nikara said, attempting to keep her voice steady. Cassian held back his laughter as he continued his efforts, making her breath hitch again. 

“General Draven has summoned you both to discuss your next mission,” he continued. “Should I tell him you are indisposed?” 

“No!” Nikara almost cried, still holding the cloak around the two of them. At least, for that, Cassian was grateful. “No. We’ll be there shortly.” 

If the droid could look at them in an unamused fashion, he did. A symptom of the reprogramming, Cassian thought. But the droid took a beat, then said in the most deadpan of voices: 

“I’ll let them know you’re coming.” 

Nikara dropped her head below the expanse of her cloak, both laughing and trying to bite back her moans. Cassian watched the droid walk away, almost in shock, but she pulled him closer, burying her face in his shoulder. 

Clenching tightly to his jacket, her moans as she came were muffled, and she shook until he drew his hand from her. Glancing about, she adjusted her clothing, although she couldn’t hide the flush to her face and cheeks and the fading dilation of her pupils. 

She kissed him, this time, pulling him into her; then gave him a knowing smirk. 

“I never told you.” 

“That was only a secondary goal,” he countered. 

She bit her lip back, stepping backwards and out of the alcove. 

“I found something in the code,” she confessed. “But you’ll hear about it shortly.” 

“I’ll meet you up there,” he said, headed to the washroom. She went a different direction, probably headed to one as well, to make herself a little bit more presentable. 

At least he knew his question would be answered, and not by her. 

It was still worth it, he thought with a smirk. 

\- - - - - - - - - -

“Do we want to bring Kaytoo?” She asked, hopping a bit until she could slip her DeathHammer blaster into her boot. “I mean, this is an Imperial base. He could help.” 

“I don’t know if we even want him to get in the way,” Cassian explained. “I’m not sure how much help he could be.” 

“We could always bring him and make him the get-away driver,” she offered. At the impetus of this mission, they had been encouraged extreme caution, but he didn’t expect to see the amount of firepower Nikara had strapped onto her body. They had two days to travel, and she still managed to carry more firearms than supplies. 

“Did you pack a sniper rifle?” 

“You never know,” she said, holding up the E-17d. “Kaytoo!” She cried out, bounding past the droid. 

“Will I be coming with you on this trip?” He said, already seemingly bored. 

“You’re gonna stick planetside,” she decided. “Keep up the good work, Kaytoo.” 

“You cannot praise me. I haven’t done anything—” 

“Just by being alive, Kaytoo, you’ve deserved my praise.” 

“I am sorry to inform you, Asha, but I’m not alive—” 

She turned and walked backwards into the ship as she chuckled. 

Cassian, though, tried to bring the focus back. “Can you share with me a little more detail about this information we’re hunting for?” 

She slips into the co-pilot’s seat and starts the flight sequence. “So whatever information we got from Cloud City, it’s definitely viable, but we can’t access it. Not without the proper codes. And I got into the intel just enough to figure out where those codes are. This Imperial base on Tatooine. It’s like… we’ve got the lock already, now we need to find the key.” 

“Let’s track down that key, then.” 


	8. Chapter VIII

**Tatooine **// _Somewhere near the Great __C__hott__ Salt__ Flats_ // -1 

“I do not want to get stuck on this planet without a way to get out of here, so we need to fix this ship and we need to fix it now,” Nikara said, fumbling with the undercarriage of the small ship. She was right, Cassian thought; they had no surefire way off this planet without it, and they weren’t going to go into this raid without having the ship ready. 

“It’s something to do with the sand getting into the machinery,” she grumbled. “I’m gonna need new parts. We’re going to have to find some in the nearest town.” 

“The map said the nearest settlement is Anchorhead,” he explained. “It’s about four kilometers over that ridge, if I saw correctly when we crashed. Do you know what we need?” 

“It’s the collector coils. I should have checked them before we left, but we didn’t have time,” she said. “Dammit. We’re gonna have to make time. I don’t want to have to bank on escaping on a stolen ship.” 

“You’re right. We need to make it to Anchorhead before the heat of the day sets in.” 

She looked around, grumbled, and then pulled her scarf over her head. “I can’t begin to describe how much I hate this planet already. What do you know about this Anchorhead?” 

“It’s not far from one of our bases,” Cassian explained. “If we can find a Rebel pilot here, we can easily get the parts we need for the mission. Either that, or we figure out a way to get the parts we need.” 

“This area isn’t under Imperial rule?” 

“Technically, yes, but it’s not observed, and I’m not sure the Empire really cares. That makes it a perfect place for us to crash land, don’t you think?” 

“I’m a little bit more optimistic than Kaytoo usually is in these situations.” 

“You tend to be.” 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

“Maybe I spoke too soon,” Nikara said as they went back the same direction they had come from. 

“We still have one place to look,” Cassian said. “There’s a station just outside the city. If they don’t have anything, we may just have to get to the Rebel base.” 

“That would set us back a few days. You know we don’t have that kind of time.” 

“Where else are we going to find these collector coils?” 

“You’re looking for parts?” 

The man’s voice stopped them in their tracks, and Nikara swiftly turned to face him. Slender, young, and in the seemingly traditional beige kimono of the locals, he took another step towards them. At first, Cassian’s fingers twitched towards his blaster, aware of the gang attacks in the area, but the blond, blue eyed teenager barely appeared old enough to even know how to hold a blaster. 

“You need to head to Tosche Station. If you need help, they’re the ones you need to talk to.” 

“Thank you,” Nikara said. “That’s where we’re headed, actually. Are we going in the right direction?” 

He chuckled. “You’re not from around here, are you? Take a left at the next crossroads, then a right…” he drifted. “I’ll just show you.” 

“You do not have to—” Cassian tried, but he shook his head. 

“I just came from there. My friend runs the place, maybe he can cut you a deal. What are you looking for?” 

“Oh, uh, collector coils,” Nikara explained. “We kinda left our last place in a hurry and I didn’t get a chance to check them.” 

“I don’t know if Laze has them in stock right now, but he was salvaging a ship when I left. By the way, I’m Luke.” 

“I’m Asha. That’s Willix,” she said. Smart of her to use one of his aliases. 

“Are you merchants? We don’t get a lot of visitors around here,” he said as the buildings began to thin. 

“Yeah,” Nikara said, taking the out. “Or at least, trying to be in this economy.” 

“What’s it like out there?” He said, walking backwards. He knew the streets like the back of his hand, apparently, and what they had to share was increasingly better than watching where he was going. Regardless, Cassian looked forward to hearing what Nikara had to say as she weaved the lie. 

“Terrifying and amazing” was what she went with. Cassian chuckled once in agreement as the streets began to thin and a large, pourstone structure jutted out of the sandy wasteland. 

“Hey, Camie! Fixer!” Luke called out as soon as they got close enough. A pretty young woman stepped out from inside, giving the boy a glaring look. 

“What do you want, Wormie—” 

“You got any more of those collector coils?” He said, seemingly breezing by what sounded to be a derogatory nickname. 

She called for who Cassian expected was Fixer, and the tall, slightly annoyed young man came out from inside. He scowled at first, but then saw Tali and Cassian. His expression changed. 

“You’re looking for collector coils?” 

“Yeah. For a Hoersch-Kessel ion drive. You got any?” 

“Depends on the price,” he says slyly. 

Tali looked up to the expansive blue sky, sighing. “Alright. Listen. I’m not in the mood right now to haggle with you. We need the parts. What’s the price?” 

“Well, it’s a hard job. You know, the risk of radiation from the coils,” the young man said. “Then you have installation—” 

“I’ve got that handled, thanks.” 

Tali glanced to Luke, who looked exceedingly more and more annoyed with his apparent friend. 

“Look, Laze, whatever you want for them, I’ll work it off.” 

“What, you know these people?” He scoffed. 

Tali looked over her shoulder to Cassian. Both of them knew the boy wouldn’t be paid. At least not in the traditional sense. 

“Can you just trust me this time?” Luke said, gesturing towards the small hangar. 

Laze grumbled and started down the stairs of the pourstone building. “Fine. You owe me,” he said under his breath to Luke. 

It took Laze barely fifteen minutes to release the collector coils from the salvage ship, and with an unceremonious exchange, Luke walked the two of them outside. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Nikara said. “I don’t want you in debt to that asshole.” 

“He’s my friend,” Luke sighed. “Besides, he isn’t going to need them. Not many people here are using that kind of machinery. He probably would have thrown it out.” 

“We appreciate what you’ve done for us,” Cassian said. “Thank you.” 

“No problem,” Luke said. “Where did you say your ship was stranded?” 

“About five kilometers to the south, in the flats,” Nikara said. Luke was already shaking his head. 

“It’ll take you way too long to get to it. I’ll take you in my speeder.” 

Tali tried to call him off. “You have done entirely too much—” 

But the young teen got into his landspeeder, seemingly still parked at the Tosche Station, and Cassian knew it was easier to just follow the boy. 

\- - - - - - - - - -

Luke was right. Even in the speeder, sunset started to fall as they approached their ship. But Tali cursed as they got closer: the Imperial lambda shuttle clearly set the boy on edge. 

“This… this is your ship?” 

“We stole it,” Tali said, immediately disembarking from the speeder. 

“You’re not merchants, you’re smugglers,” he accused. Cassian felt a bit of remorse for pulling the rug out underneath the kid, but he would bounce back. 

Nikara seemed to consider the accusation, then shrug. “In a way, sure. Listen, Luke. You never saw us here, okay? That’s for your own good.” She began installing the collector coils, not giving any regard to the radiation the now defunct ones gave off. “Trust me. We appreciate your help, and honestly, we have nothing to pay you with.” 

“I figured,” he said. “I’ll let you get on your way.” 

“A question before you leave,” Cassian said. “What’s the best way to get to Bestine?”  
Luke peered at him for a moment, seemingly finding the hidden message inside. 

“Well, you’re going to want to go north, northwest towards Carnthout. Bestine isn’t far from there, but make sure you head north around the city, or you’ll run into the Imperial garrison there. And I’m not sure you want to do that with what you’re driving. Oh, be careful of the minefield!” 

“Thanks for the tip,” Tali said, finishing up her modifications. “I just wish we could pay you….” She drifts. Immediately, she starts unhooking her metal bracers. “These are platinum. Should get you… six thousand credits, at least. Hopefully that covers our debt to your ‘friend’.” 

Luke grasped the intricately designed bracers, almost shocked. 

“You’re not even smugglers, are you?” 

“Smart kid,” she muttered. “Thank you for all your help. Someday, we’ll have to repay you.” 

“Can you get me off this rock?” 

Cassian boarded the ship, and Tali shouted out the bay doors. “You give me some time, Luke, and I can take you to the opposite ends of the universe!” 

Once the young Tatooine native cleared their airspace, Cassian chuckled. 

“Don’t make promises you cannot keep.” 

“Oh, no,” Tali said, charting a safe course towards Bestine. “I fully intend on keeping that promise.” 

* * *

**Tatooine **// _Jundland__ Wastes near __Bestine_ // 0 

Midnight came, and so did the launch of their mission. With the ship fixed, both had determined they had enough fortitude to push forward; hidden in the wastes, they made the short trek to the jutted over cropping of rock where the Imperial garrison stood. 

As they approached, both looked over the buildings for different reasons: Cassian counted the guards, where he knew Tali had counted the security cameras. 

“How should we do this?” She whispered. “Loud and quick, or slow and quiet?” 

“Let’s start with slow and quiet, and if we need to get loud and quick, we can,” he decided. She still pulled out her sniper rifle, regardless; he hoped she wouldn’t call out their position, but instead, cover his descent. 

“You go first,” she said. “Find a pathway through the minefield to the garrison, and I’ll follow. Thank the gods for that Anchorhead boy.” 

“Only shoot if you must,” he said. “And yes, we should thank him someday.” 

He started forward down the dusty ridge. At first, the steep drop was mostly him climbing, but eventually, he saw the section of the sandy approach they would have to avoid. While the garrison was itself on a chunk of rock, it sat almost like an island: if he stayed on the outside edge, he could circumvent the minefield and approach from the opposite side. 

He kept moving, avoiding the half-moon light of the three Tatooine moons: one much larger than the other two. The starry night could easily betray them, he thought as he slipped against the garrison’s northern walls. 

Tali was not far behind. As soon as he took stock of the situation, he watched her drop from part of the rocks and follow his footsteps in the sand. She silently joined him, her breath light and quick. 

“Get me to the nearest terminal,” she whispered. “It should be through the main hangar, down the hallway, then to the right. We may need to hack the door lock.” 

“I’ll get you to where we need to be,” he said, and she just chuckled. 

“I know.” 

They stuck to the sides of the building, carefully looking for any sort of laser grid, but the Empire didn’t seem to put much stock on the sand planet, Cassian thought. They made it to the hallway, and he covered her six as she went right for the locked doorway. 

“Give me a moment…” she said, inputting codes she had written in a small handheld notebook. “Let me try these first.” 

She actually let out a giggle when the door unlocked. 

“Where did you get those?” 

“The love of my life, K-2S0,” she said. “He’s truly valuable, you know. Don’t let him go easily.” 

“I won’t, now can we get moving?” 

“Alright, don’t be so antsy,” she said, slipping into the terminal room. “You’d think they would do better on hiding their information. I mean, sure, this has taken us almost half a year to get to, but it’s better than nothing, right?” 

“Stop waxing philosophical and find the information, please? I don’t like being here longer than we have to be.” 

“Yes, Captain. Sorry, Captain.” 

He covered the door as she started typing. He felt like he held his breath for much too long, until she gasped. 

“Did you find it?” He asked. 

“Oh, yeah, I found it like, five minutes ago. I found something else, though. I found more information. They’ve got more intel housed here than we thought. Give me a couple more minutes, and we could save ourselves months. Years, even.” 

“Just do it fast.” 

“Look at this…” she said. “They have all these transfers. Cargo. They’re… they’re kyber crystals,” she breathed. 

“What would the Empire be doing with kyber crystals?” 

Like she had been burned, she stepped backward from the computer screen. “We need to get out of here.” 

“What? What did you find?” 

“The… the director of Advanced Weapon Research. He’s running this operation. We need… I need to find him.” 

He glanced at the screen. He recognized the name. The man who killed Tama. The reason she started this crusade in the first place. 

She pulled the drive from the computer, and immediately, alarms began blaring. 

“What did you do?” 

“I didn’t do anything,” she said, pocketing the stick and drawing her weapon. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s go.” 

They ran down the hallway they had come from, but Stormtroopers lined the area. Tali nearly vaulted over him as they sprinted towards the nearest exit. It’s too far, he thought. It’s too far. 

They slipped behind a stack of crates. One cracked open, revealing hundreds of thermal detonators. He knew they couldn’t hide for long, but Tali took the time to slip the information drive into his pocket. 

“What are you doing—” 

“You’re faster than me. We need to split up,” she said, not looking at him and instead focusing on her weapon. “You need to run for the hills. Literally. Make sure you avoid the minefield. I’ll meet you up there once I plant a distraction.” 

“Distraction? Tali, what—” 

She pulled him close, kissing him hard. “Promise me.” 

“Promise you what?” 

“Just promise me.” 

He stumbled out of their hiding place, afraid to leave her alone but knowing he had to in the long run. 

He dodged more gunfire, trying to find another hiding spot, but a small explosion wracked the entire building. Pieces of ceiling started to fall. He thought about running, but the explosion came from where he just left. 

He let out a pent up breath. Tali struggled out of the debris, holding her arm to her side and limping, but she broke free. 

She seemed to call out something in Pamarthen, and the Stormtroopers started to converge on her position. 

Cassian knew if he tried to save her now, she would just berate him later. He took the cover, slipping out of the side of the garrison and sticking to shadows, until he could avoid the minefield and make it up the ridge. As soon as he did, settled into a sniper’s position, and looked through his scope, though, he regretted it. 

They had gotten her. 

They had pulled Tali out into the open, near the minefield they tried to avoid. Beaten and bloody, from the explosion or the Stormtroopers, he didn’t know; she appeared again as they had met on Naboo. 

But, unlike Naboo, the Stormtrooper in charge held a blaster to her head. He could not hear them talking, but as she had been positioned, she could look up into the outcroppings without setting the Stormtroopers off to his location. 

He could see the tears in her eyes through his scope. Cassian’s heart dropped. She had planned this all along. She knew they wouldn’t get out of this one, not without some sort of divine intervention. But with the majority of the garrison surrounding her, threatening some sort of holy hell, he saw what was in her hand: a small thermal detonator. 

She peered into his scope. She peered into his scope, and she smiled. 

All he saw was fire. 

He cringed, he shielded his eyes after the initial blast, but a dozen more followed after. 

From her position, she set off the entire minefield. Tons of sand erupted into the sky, and smoke and fire torched through whatever buildings remained on the outskirts of the garrison. 

As the debris fell, he took a step back. He stumbled backwards, and then continued running. 

Nikara was gone. 


	9. Chapter IX

**_Yavin_****_ IV_****_ // _****Base One**** // **\+ 4 

It took four silent days to return to Yavin IV. Four quiet days alone in a stolen ship that felt haunted. 

But soon, Cassian stood in the control room, once again, alone. The space that had been so frequently consumed by Nikara was now empty as he gave his report to Draven and Mon Mothma. 

He tried to keep it professional. Regardless, the crack in his voice gave him away. 

“You did everything you could,” Mon Mothma said, bowing her head. “She was our last slicer. We have yet to train anymore.” 

“Regardless of the loss, we need to push forward,” Draven said. “We need you in the F’tzner System. Take that droid—we need you to run a raid on an Imperial freighter.” 

Airen Cracken, though, spoke up. “What about—” 

“We’re cracking the information now. We are working an informant on the Ring of Kafrene. We need to figure out where these kyber crystals are going,” Draven says. 

All Cassian could do was nod. As he headed towards his ship, he collected Kaytoo. While the droid tried to speak to him, his heart just beat in his ears. Glancing up, he saw the tower. The tower upon which he and Nikara sat. When she told him her name. 

He remembered her lesson, as explained on the tower on Yavin: we were all dying stars, we were all going to supernova. Whether it be small or large, there was always that point of no return—that event horizon. 

He hoped that, just for a short time, they shone together, a pair of dwarf stars, of binary stars, appearing as a single point of light. 

He opened his hand: inside, he grasped the pearl necklace she had left in her quarters. He slipped it into his pocket. If there was one thing he could do, he could follow her wishes: drop it in the next ocean he came across. 

Cassian didn’t love her. He really didn’t know if he would know love if he was in it, but this wasn’t love. For Nikara, he felt admiration: he yearned to be as passionate as her, as optimistic. Even until the end, she wasn’t fighting for the Rebellion or the idea of freedom or the collapse of the Empire. She was fighting for herself, for her family. At the end, she was fighting for him. 

As he boarded his ship for that next mission, the thought of her weighed heavily. She had given her life, like any of the hundreds, thousands, possibly millions before, for this rebellion. For freedom. For just a few names, for some information on kyber crystals. 

It seemed so petty and so vast at the same time. 

But with this information, they could start looking for the source of the crystals. They could track down this weapon. And if the weapon could be found, they could figure out how to destroy it. 

Cassian thought to Nikara. Her mission was left unfinished. Resolved, he knew what he had to do: she may have died before she could finish it, but he wasn’t dead yet. 

Her friend was killed because of the man in charge. Her mission now fell to him. This Imperial puppet’s days were numbered, if Cassian had anything to do with it. 

With Nikara’s death, Cassian vowed he would finish her mission and kill the man who killed Tama. 

Clutching the last memento of her tightly in his hand, Cassian vowed he would find a way to kill Orson Krennic, if it was the last thing he ever did. 


End file.
